


A Coffee Shop's Acoustics

by cosmicmae (orphan_account)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, MatsuHana (mentioned), Musician Oikawa Tooru, Slow Build, coffee shop AU, iwaoi - Freeform, musician au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:27:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cosmicmae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi Hajime works at a cozy coffee shop downtown, where he is annoyed by the same customer every week. He isn't sure what it is about the customer, but something about him pisses him off. One day, the customer shows up with a guitar and the most beautiful voice Iwaizumi has ever heard. Conflicting emotions lead Iwaizumi to question his true feelings towards the boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caramel Lattes

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: If you're in need of mood music, I recommend listening to Hozier's self-titled album. It's what I was listening to when I thought of this idea as well as what I listened to as I wrote it. Ok, that's it. On with reading!!

            On a particularly sunny day, Iwaizumi Hajime stood stiffly behind the counter of the slightly stuffy but still endearing coffee shop where he worked. He was a new employee, still learning the ropes from his coworkers, and he tried his best to look approachable to customers despite the heat pounding at his skull, giving him a headache. When he heard the ring of the bell on the door and the sound of graceful footsteps striding into the building, he straightened his black apron and plastered a smile on his face. The customer held his chin high, seeming to look down upon everything he laid his eyes on, like some kind of entitled king. The smile on Iwaizumi’s face twitched in annoyance. He wasn’t sure what it was about the customer, but it pissed him off.

            “Hello,” the customer’s voice was smooth and had a smug air to it that sent Iwaizumi’s headache throbbing, “I’ll have a caramel latte.”

            “You’re ordering a caramel latte in this weather?” Iwaizumi asked incredulously. What layer of hell is he from that he can drink a hot drink in weather like this? The customer responded by holding his arms out in a shrug, smirking like it was some impressive feat. The entire gesture pissed Iwaizumi off. He grudgingly grabbed a cup and began marking the boxes with the symbols for a caramel latte.

            “Will that be it?” He asked, making an effort to sound friendly.

            “You’re not going to ask for my name and write it on the cup?” The customer asked with a childish pout. Iwaizumi’s hand tightened around the cup. He looked up into the customer’s eyes. They were the color of Iwaizumi’s favorite blend of coffee, it tasted like hazelnut and reminded him of home. He narrowed his own brown eyes at him.

            “No.” He answered curtly. He took a deep breath, then finished ringing up the customer before he got further angered by his blasé attitude. He handed the cup to one of his coworkers, Hanamaki Takahiro, while muttering angrily.

            “What was that?” Hanamaki asked with an amused grin at Iwaizumi. His devilish smile and mock confusion annoyed Iwaizumi almost as much as the new customer. Almost.

            “I said to make the damn drink.” Iwaizumi kept his voice low. As much as he disliked the customer, he knew he would be in deep trouble if he scared him away with his foul language and sour attitude. Hanamaki looked over to where their third coworker, Matsukawa Issei, stood by the flavor syrups. Matsukawa and Hanamaki had been dating long before Iwaizumi began working at the shop, resulting in the two being perfectly in synch with each other. The way they sometimes communicated without words weirded Iwaizumi out. They shared a look for a moment, then Hanamaki went back to making the latte. He carefully made the shop’s signature design in the foam, placed a top on the cup, and then handed it to Iwaizumi. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and annoyance at the coffee he held in his hand.

            “Giving the finished drinks to customers is Matsukawa’s job.” It took every last straining bit of his control to keep from raising his voice in anger. Hanamaki smirked.

            “Issei?”

            “I’m suddenly overwhelmed with work.”

            “Oh, man. Iwaizumi, look at how busy he is.” Hanamaki gestured to Matsukawa, who yawned and lazily flipped the page of the magazine he was reading. He clearly had nothing to do.

            “I’m just so busy.” Matsukawa said in an emotionless tone without looking up from his magazine. “Could you take this one, Iwaizumi?” Iwaizumi’s headache throbbed again. He reluctantly took the cup from Hanamaki, avoiding looking at his pleased expression, and trudged over to the counter where finished drinks were placed.

            “Caramel latte.” He said flatly, placing the drink down a little too hard. The customer strode over and picked up his drink. He glanced at it for a moment before smiling sweetly at Iwaizumi.

            “Thank you, uh…” he squinted at Iwazumi’s apron, reading his nametag, “Iwaizumi?” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “How about Iwa-chan?”

            “Definitely not Iwa-chan. Don’t call me Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi’s smile twitched again. If the customer didn’t leave soon, he might pick up a coffee cup and throw it at his big, obnoxious head. Iwaizumi bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making another angry remark. He wanted to keep his job, after all.

            “Ok, Iwa-chan! Bye-bye!” The customer walked out of the shop with a cheerful pep in his step, humming as he walked. The bell chimed again as the door shut behind him. Iwaizumi watched as he strode down the street until he disappeared from view.

            Around three months later, snow floated softly to the ground and dappled the brick steps leading up to the coffee shop. Iwaizumi still worked there, but he had calmed down and grown out of his new employee’s jitters. He stood in his place at the register behind the counter, watching the snowflakes twist and spin to the ground. The sound of a bell snapped him out of his thoughts. He began to straighten his apron before he saw who it was, then stopped his efforts and sighed deeply. The same customer with the hazelnut eyes returned nearly every week since that one, painfully hot day. He always ordered the same drink, and he always managed to annoy Iwaizumi like no other.

            “Yoo-hoo, Iwa-chan!” He called out as he strut into the coffee shop, as he always did. However, this time he carried a black leather guitar case. He wore a light brown jacket and a burgundy scarf was pulled high to cover his lower face. The red of the scarf brought out the pink in his pale cheeks. It was probably left over from the cold, making Iwaizumi wonder just how far he walked to order his stupid latte every week. His hair fell perfectly into place, a few remaining snowflakes laying to rest on his chocolate locks. He placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward, acting far too comfortable than any customer should. He pulled his scarf down to speak. “I’ll have a-”

            “Caramel latte, I know.” Iwaizumi finished for him. His tone was tired. He didn’t put forth much effort to conceal his annoyance around him anymore. He began filling out the order on the cup, almost waiting for the question he knew would be asked next.

            “You aren’t going to ask me my name, Iwa-chan?” He asked obnoxiously. There it was. He asked that every single time he ordered at the shop. Iwaizumi gave the same response as he always did.

            “No.”

            “Are you going to ask about my guitar?” He gestured to his guitar excitedly. His hopeful expression nearly made Iwaizumi laugh.

            “No.”

“Iwa-chan! Rude!” Iwaizumi scowled, but the customer only giggled in return and virtually skipped over to the counter where he would wait for his drink. Iwaizumi hated him, and he didn’t even know his name.

            “Aw, I always love the playful banter between you two!” Hanamaki elbowed Iwaizumi as he began making the latte. “You should ask him about his guitar.”

            “I don’t care about his stupid guitar.”

            “You should.” Hanamaki said vaguely. He didn’t even look at Iwaizumi as he handed the latte to Matsukawa.

            “Caramel latte!” Matsukawa called out the order and handed it to the customer. The customer smiled, then lifted the latte to his lips. Iwaizumi prepared himself for the relief he would feel once he left. Every time he visited the shop, he would order the same drink, take a few sips of it, and then leave. Iwaizumi was beyond surprised when he adjusted his grip on the guitar case and crossed to the elevated area in the corner that was meant for live performers. Then it hit him.

            “Oh, no. He’s not…” Iwaizumi trailed off as he watched Oikawa set his guitar case down and remove his jacket, which he tossed carelessly on the floor by the stage. Iwaizumi felt a twinge of annoyance. He whipped around, head snapping to where Hanamaki and Matsukawa stood behind him. They wore twin smirks, very obviously pleased by how the situation was playing out.

            “Oh, yes. He is.” Matsukawa mimicked him and Hanamaki sniggered.

            “You should have asked him about his guitar.”

            “Shut up.” Iwaizumi let out an angry huff. He walked out from behind the counter and to where the menace was kneeling on the ground, opening his guitar case. He pulled out a beautiful, sand-colored acoustic guitar. He smiled at it and began tuning when Iwaizumi loomed over him. “What the hell?”

            “What do you mean, Iwa-chan?” The customer asked innocently. He stood. At his full height, Iwaizumi was no longer able to loom over him. He towered a good handful of inches above Iwaizumi, which infuriated him. He smiled calmly and took a seat on the single wooden stool on the stage. “I’ll be playing here every day for a few weeks. I love this coffee shop and I need a bit of extra money. I hope it’s not too distracting, Iwa-chan.” He frowned slightly. Iwaizumi blinked. He sounded genuinely concerned, for whatever reason. Iwaizumi shook his head and clenched his fists, turning on his heel and marching back behind the counter. He took a few more customers’ orders, occasionally glancing up at the tuning process that was happening on the stage. After ten minutes or so of tuning and fiddling with the microphone stand, the now performer began to play. He played acoustic without any other instruments backing him up. Iwaizumi admitted to himself that his guitar sounded nice, but he wasn’t anywhere near prepared for when he sang.

 His voice floated over the chords, sounding as sweet as the caramel latte he always ordered. Iwaizumi recognized the song immediately, nearly dropping the cup he was writing on. "It Will Come Back" by Hozier was one of his favorite songs, and here it was being sung by the person who had been annoying him for months. Iwaizumi stared at him as he played, eyes wide. His slender fingers moved nimbly over the guitar strings, he smiled subconsciously as his voice rang throughout the coffee shop. To Iwaizumi’s shock, he sounded heavenly. His voice and his guitar were perfectly on key with each other. Iwaizumi wondered how long he had been playing, and how many songs he knew. A sharp jab at his ribs broke Iwaizumi out of his trance.

“Stop drooling and take the customer’s order.” Hanamaki said while busying himself with making the previous customer’s drink. Iwaizumi looked back at the old woman on the other side of the counter, self-consciously rubbing his mouth with his sleeve in case he really was drooling.

“Uh… I’m sorry. What was your order?”


	2. Forgotten Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanamaki and Matsukawa are big shits. Iwaoi D E V E L O P E S

After a few more hours of alluring tenor vocals and soothing guitar chords, the customer/performer took his break. Iwaizumi watched with interest from behind the counter as he returned his instrument to its leather case, snapping the last buckle shut with a metallic click. He placed the case in the corner of the stage with the sort of care that made it clear to anyone how much his guitar meant to him. The customer suddenly turned and looked over his shoulder. His eyes focused on Iwaizumi’s stare, too swift and fluid of a motion for him to look somewhere else in time. There was something in his eyes that felt calculating. It made Iwaizumi both uneasy and slightly annoyed. He felt his face heat up as they held eye contact for an extra millisecond, but he broke the gaze almost immediately when the customer began walking towards him. Iwaizumi quickly busied himself with straightening piles of coffee cups, which were already aligned neatly. He pretended not to hear the quiet snicker from Hanamaki.

“Caramel latte?” Iwaizumi asked while straightening the stack of cups for the third time.

“Actually, no. Just water would be fine.” Iwaizumi looked up in his surprise, cocking an eyebrow. He was met with the same, increasingly familiar brown eyes and smug smile.

“Say, Iwa-chan-”

“I’m not writing your name on the fucking bottle of water.” Iwaizumi quipped.

A second passed, then two. Then, the customer was laughing. Iwaizumi was startled. He didn’t even bother with getting annoyed as he stared at him with a blank expression. The customer’s nose crinkled slightly and he covered his giggles with his hand. The motion reminded Iwaizumi of a child, in a peculiar way. The gray knit sweater the brunette was wearing was a bit loose on him, the sleeves long enough to run over his hands and form paws. He looked stupid. Iwaizumi wanted him to shut up.

“I wasn’t going to ask that, silly Iwa-chan!”

“You’re giving me a headache.” Iwaizumi retrieved a bottled water from the refrigerated, glass display. “Is this it?” The customer shifted his weight and hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be considering something. He then pushed his glasses higher on his slim nose and returned to his confident posture.

“Well, I’d like the water and for you to spend my break with me.”

Iwaizumi stopped what he was doing. His fingers hovered over the keys of the cash register as he stared hard at the customer. He was incredibly taken aback, his face flushing a deep red to show it. What did the customer want? Surely he was only looking to annoy Iwaizumi further, or to brag about how well he played the guitar. He didn’t understand why his heart took off like a racehorse when the customer probably wanted to talk to him about something stupid, like whether or not aliens exist, or if Iwaizumi could please write his name on the damn cup.

“No.”

“Iwa-chan!” The customer’s confident air was broken as he virtually whined at Iwaizumi. A few other customers sitting around the coffee shop shot looks at them when his loud voice projected into the tiny room. His eyes darting around the annoyed customers’ faces, a stab of anger washed through Iwaizumi. His gaze returned to the customer in front of him. He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes, preparing to shut the topic down when Hanamaki interrupted.

“Iwaizumi actually just started his break,” he said with a sly tone, “so he’d love to.” Hanamaki placed a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder condescendingly, smiling at the man on the other side of the counter. Iwaizumi’s stare shot daggers into his coworker, but Hanamaki only continued speaking. “Your little chat is holding up the line so why don’t you two get a table?”

“Yay!” The customer clapped twice. He proceeded to weave through the shop to find a table, leaving the two employees alone.

“What the fuck was that?”

“You don’t want to disappoint a customer, do you?” Hanamaki smiled innocently at him, patting his back just to piss him off. “You kids have fun!” He called over his shoulder as he went back to his post by the coffee machines.

With a drawn-out sigh and reluctant footsteps, Iwaizumi stepped out from behind the counter and searched for the particular customer among the tables. He soon found him in a seat by the window, tapping away on his phone. As Iwaizumi slipped through the crowded tables, he figured the customer was playing some dumb game that nobody plays anymore. He didn’t even look up when Iwaizumi pulled out the chair opposite to him and sat down.

“Hold on, Iwa-chan. There’s only one more pig left.” He said, clearly far too concentrated on what was on his phone. Iwaizumi snorted and raised his eyebrows at the person sitting across from him.

“Are you actually playing angry birds?”

“Don’t make me mess up!”

“I didn’t think anyone actually still played that game.”

“Iwa-chan! Rude!”

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. The customer was ridiculously focused on his game, his eyebrows furrowing at the screen that casted a hue of blue light on his face. He had the audacity to play his game with the volume on in public, so obnoxious sound effects emitted from his phone every few seconds. However, Iwaizumi didn’t mind the noise. It was odd because he absolutely despised when people leave their sound effects on, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He quietly studied the customer, trying to figure him out and pinpoint all his contradictions.

“What’s your name?” Iwaizumi interjected suddenly. The customer jumped slightly, his focus finally snapping away from the game.

“Oikawa Tooru.” Oikawa glanced back at his game. “Iwa-chan! You made me lose!” He shook his head disappointedly and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“Wow, I was beginning to think you dragged me over here to watch you play angry birds.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” Oikawa said in an exaggeratedly monotone voice. He placed his elbows on the table, laced his fingers together, and rested his chin on his interlocked hands. Iwaizumi subconsciously leaned back. “I actually wanted to ask you about the music. You seemed to recognize the first song I played?” His eyes glittered with interest as they bored into Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi felt his mood shoot towards the stars, suddenly becoming a bit more animated than anyone at the shop had ever seen him.

“Yeah! ‘It Will Come Back’ is actually one of my favorite songs!” Iwaizumi sent Oikawa a genuine smile for the first time since they met, causing Oikawa to hesitate for a moment before breaking into one of his own. “Who taught you guitar?”

“I guess I taught myself. My mother bought me my guitar a few years ago as a gift and I’ve loved playing ever since.” His tone grew nostalgic as he avoiding looking at Iwaizumi, gazing out the window instead. Iwaizumi watched Oikawa’s eyes trace the pattern of a single snowflake until it hit the ground. The white snow outside the window reflected in his hazelnut eyes, brightening them. His whole body seemed to glow softly, in a discreet yet radiant manner that nearly went under the radar.

“You taught yourself?” Oikawa tore his eyes away from the falling snow to look at Iwaizumi. He smiled a wide, proud smile.

“Yup! Aren’t I amazing, Iwa-chan?”

“Stop.” Iwaizumi groaned, rolling his eyes.

Iwaizumi was surprised to find that conversation flowed easily with Oikawa. They chattered on and on about various topics, such as disastrous concert experiences, and Iwaizumi even found himself telling Oikawa about how he’s always wanted to pick up an instrument. Oikawa prompted him to go for it, but he wasn’t entirely sure which one he would pick nor was he sure he had the time to learn it. He almost completely forgot about being annoyed with Oikawa. For the most part, he was glad to have spent his break with him. He would never tell Hanamaki that, though. He internally cringed as he pictured Hanamaki’s pleased expression and the complementary “I told you so!” that would come alongside it.

He was in the middle of stifling his laughter at possibly the lamest guitar joke in existence when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. As Oikawa snickered at his own joke, covering his mouth with his hands again, Iwaizumi pulled out his phone and read the text message on the screen.

 

 **Hanamaki 4:17 pm:** Sorry for interrupting xoxo but get ur ass back behind the counter

 

            He sighed, sliding his phone back into his pocket and standing up. Oikawa tilted his head in a question, fumbling with a pulled string in the sleeve of his sweater absentmindedly.

            “Makki’s calling me back to work.” Iwaizumi explained. He raised his eyebrows at Oikawa’s pout that ensued.

            “I suppose I’ll get back to work too then.” His voice held a tinge of dejection as he stood and pushed his chair neatly back under the table. “Thanks for spending my break with me, Iwa-chan! So thoughtful!” His singsong tone made Iwaizumi’s posture stiffen.

            “You were the one who hauled my ass over here.” He pointed out.

            “Cruel!”

            He shook his head as they parted ways, Iwaizumi heading towards the cash register and Oikawa towards the stage where his guitar lay waiting. Once Iwaizumi was back in position behind the counter and straightening his apron, Hanamaki took it upon himself to comment.

            “So, I gather you had fun?”

            “Not a word, Hanamaki.”

            “You know, you and what’s his face really hit it off.”

            “His name is Oikawa.” Iwaizumi shot back defensively, immediately regretting it when he saw the complacent grin grow on Hanamaki’s face.

            “My point exactly.”

            Iwaizumi ignored his comment and took a few more customers’ orders. Throughout the rest of the day, he didn’t feel the need to glance at Oikawa as he tuned onstage. Oddly, the sound of his guitar blended nicely with the other sounds of the bustling shop, preventing it from becoming much of a distraction. He never thought a guitar would be so greatly complemented by a coffee shop’s acoustics.

 His shift flew by, feeling shorter than it had ever felt before. In what felt like minutes, 11:00 pm creeped upon them and it was closing time. Customers filtered out of the shop gradually until the only ones left were Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa. The latter decided he would assist in the cleanup routine, even though it wasn’t remotely a part of his temporary job there. Iwaizumi was flipping the “open” sign to “closed” and wiping down the tables until they gleamed with cleanliness when Matsukawa called for him from behind the counter.

“Alright, Iwaizumi. We’re heading out. Can you lock up?” He trudged tiredly to where Hanamaki was leaning against the doorframe of the shop’s entrance. He took his hand, intertwining their fingers together and smiling a sleepy smile at his boyfriend.

“Yeah. Goodnight!”

Their responses chimed alongside the bell on the door in a chorus as they departed from the shop, leaving Iwaizumi with Oikawa. Iwaizumi watched as they crossed the street, swinging their clasped hands gently and chattering with beaming smiles on their overworked faces. He watched until he was positive they crossed the street safely, their forms morphing into dark silhouettes against the yellow illumination of the streetlights.

Iwaizumi looked away, sneaking a glance over to where Oikawa was polishing the tables by the shop’s large window, working as if it really was a part of his job there. Iwaizumi huffed, moving onto the next table to clean off.

“You know you’re not getting paid for this, right?” Oikawa glimpsed at him briefly, then smiled to himself and returned to cleaning. Once he was satisfied with the tidiness of the table, he replied to Iwaizumi.

“You can’t do all this by yourself, Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi’s eye twitched out of tiredness and annoyance.

“How do you think I’ve gotten it done before? Idiot.”

“Iwa-chan! So mean!” However, his exclamation was overruled by the giggles escaping his mouth. Crinkles framed Oikawa’s eyes nicely as he smiled gleefully, leaning on the table to balance himself. “Alright, _maybe_ you could handle it on your own. I know you want me here though.” Oikawa said, slipping back into the cocky tone that always managed to irk Iwaizumi.

“Right.” Iwaizumi said sarcastically as he returned to the task at hand. “Seriously though, you can’t stay up too late when you have work in the morning.”

“Iwa-chan, are you my mom?”

Iwaizumi threw his rag at Oikawa instead of making a verbal comeback. His back was to Iwaizumi as he scrubbed the table he was working on, so he nearly jumped out of his skin when the rag hit him in the shoulder. 

“IWA-CHAAAAAAAAN!” Oikawa whined in disbelief. “YOU BIG OAF! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!” Iwaizumi finally couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. It spilled from his mouth uncontrollably, like marbles out of a bag. Oikawa began stomping over to where Iwaizumi was doubled over, clinging to the table for support in his hysterics. Iwaizumi stood up, dancing around tables and out of Oikawa's reach. Oikawa gave up on chasing him and threw his own rag at him, hitting him squarely in the chest. Iwaizumi retrieved the rag from the ground, preparing to throw it back when he heard the bell on the door chime.

The door swung open and Matsukawa and Hanamaki strolled in, wearing identical amused expressions. Hanamaki let go of Matsukawa’s hand and crossed his arms over his chest, his grin growing.

“I forgot my keys.” Matsukawa said as he bypassed Oikawa and Iwaizumi and disappeared through the doorway of the employees’ room. Iwaizumi and Oikawa stood frozen in place, Iwaizumi still holding the rag above his head and Oikawa’s arms were still raised to block.

“Oh, _dear_. Issei? I think we just interrupted a _blossoming romance_.” His voice laid a heavy coating of emphasis on the last two words teasingly. Oikawa’s face bloomed a vibrant shade of pink and Iwaizumi snorted, his slightly shaking fingers fiddling with his apron.

“Oh did we, Takahiro?” Matsukawa emerged from the room, dangling his keys from his fingers. He withheld his poker face as his eyes scanned observantly from Oikawa’s to Iwaizumi’s reactions. “Hm.” He hummed in an exaggeratedly thoughtful manner. He crossed to Hanamaki and took his hand in his for the second time that night.

“Well, what a night, am I right?” Hanamaki said with no response from neither Oikawa nor Iwaizumi. They both remained where they were, avoiding each other’s eye contact. Oikawa coughed, using it as an excuse to momentarily hide his blush from Hanamaki’s smug stare. “Goodnight!” He cheerfully hummed as he swung their held hands and exited the shop, tugging his boyfriend along with him. Once the bell’s chime stopped echoing across the shop, the two were left in a thick, tense silence.

“Well, the shop looks clean enough so… maybe we should…” Oikawa nervously tried to fill the silence, but he only succeeded in making things more awkward.

“Right.” Iwaizumi moved to pick up his rag from where it landed after hitting Oikawa, only to find Oikawa reaching to do the same. Their hands bumped together clumsily, and Iwaizumi retracted his hand as if the contact burned him. He avoided Oikawa’s eyes. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get my coat from the… yeah.” He took off towards the employees’ room, widening his gait in order to leave the room faster. He gripped the metal handle with white knuckles, flinging the wooden door open with a bit too much force than what was necessary. It slammed shut behind him, sealing him into the small room.

There wasn’t much to the employees’ room, it was nothing but a large closet with a mini fridge to hold lunches, a small circular table with a few chairs around it, a coatrack, and a bathroom for the use of employees only. However, in that moment, it was everything Iwaizumi needed. He took a seat on one of the chairs at the table, leaning his elbows on its surface and rubbing circles into his temples. Why did Matsukawa have to forget his keys? Why did Hanamaki have to make those comments? Nothing was happening, he reminded himself. He didn’t even _like_ Oikawa, let alone did he have feelings for him. No matter how hard he cringed, the events kept replaying in his mind like a broken record. He let his eyes close for a moment, trying his best to recover as much of his dignity as he could, then stood up from the chair. He grabbed his black jacket from where it hung on the coatrack and swung the door back open, only to find Oikawa had already left the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long with the update!! If you wanna follow my twitter for updates on my updates (lmao) it's @cosmicbokuto :) Thank you so, so much for reading and please leave a comment if you have any feedback whatsoever as I love to read them!!


	3. Things Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically a patchwork of a bunch of ideas I had for the chapter and concepts I wanted to establish.

            A week had gone by, and nobody at the little coffee shop spoke a word of what happened the first night Oikawa began working there. Even Hanamaki, who often teased Iwaizumi by reminding him of awkward memories, didn’t let a single word on the subject slip from his lips. However, this didn’t mean nobody was thinking about it. On rainy nights, when he would be left to do nothing but waltz with his own thoughts, Iwaizumi found memories of the night often resurfacing to his consciousness. The image of emerging from the employees’ room to an empty, Oikawa-less coffee shop was etched into his mind. The way he left without a trace, taking his guitar case and folding his cleaning rag neatly the nearest table, left Iwaizumi with a plethora of unanswerable questions. Despite his lack of an understanding of what exactly happened that night, he chose to dismiss his slight curiosity and push the memories out of his head.

            The weather grew drastically colder in that week, raising a slew of complaints from Oikawa that were more inconvenient than the snowstorm itself. He even tried to stop Iwaizumi from walking to work in the frigid mornings, but Iwaizumi wouldn’t budge. He enjoyed walking to work. It provided him with the peace he needed before dealing with the rest of the staff and their antics. Besides, unlike Oikawa, a heavy snowfall always lifted his mood.

            The snow crunched under his durable winter boots as he marched down the street towards his work. Sounds of the city hummed in the back of his drowsy, slow-moving mind. A gust of air lashed at his face, biting at his exposed skin with a winter’s chill. He shivered and shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his black, woolen jacket. He reached the coffee shop within minutes, and wasn’t surprised to see Matsukawa outside shoveling snow.

            During the colder months, the weather challenged the tiny coffee shop with rising snow piles that made it difficult not to sink in the freezing mess. Trudging through the barricade of snow quickly became hazardous, so Matsukawa would begin his winter shifts by shoveling the steps that led to the shop nearly every morning.

            “Morning, Matsun.”

            “Mm.” He mumbled back. He clearly hadn’t been fully woken up yet either, so Iwaizumi let him be. He slipped past Matsukawa on his way up the steps, lugged the door open to the shop, and stepped inside.

            The first thing he noticed was the significant difference in temperature between the outdoors and inside the cozy building. It felt toasty and comforting, the scent of freshly-ground coffee beans swirling around the familiar atmosphere. The second thing he noticed was Oikawa, who was incredibly early to start his shift. There were still a few hours until opening time, the baristas arrived early to set up shop, and Oikawa didn’t need to arrive until mid-workday at the latest.

            “Iwa-chan!” He squealed, bounding over as Iwaizumi began removing his jacket and gloves.

            “You’re early.” Iwaizumi gave him a questioning look before heading towards the back where the employees’ room was. Hanamaki was preparing the machines behind the counter. He ran a hand through his ruffled, strawberry bedhead and gave Iwaizumi a short nod in greeting, which he returned as he strode past him and into the employees’ room. Oikawa was close behind, catching the door as it almost fell shut behind Iwaizumi. He followed Iwaizumi into the room and the cheerful tune he was humming faltered.

            “ _Iwa-chan!_ ” Oikawa gasped urgently. Iwaizumi whipped around, wildly searching for the disaster that was indicated by Oikawa’s urgent tone. To his annoyance, he was met with nothing but Oikawa pointing an accusing finger at the ground by his feet. “The floor!”

“What?” Iwaizumi demanded, impatience seeping into his tone.

            “You’re tracking snow and water and _yuck_ all across the floor! Bad Iwa-chan! Were you raised by monkeys? _Gross!_ ”

            Iwaizumi glanced down at his slush-covered boots, finally noticing how filthy they were. He shrugged. Oikawa stared at him, his face blank in shock at Iwaizumi’s sloppiness, then he huffed. He dramatically turned on his heel, flung the door open, then stormed out of the room. Iwaizumi didn’t need to look through the ajar door to know Oikawa was stomping around. The loud creaks of the suffering, wooden floorboards told him everything he needed to know. He set his jaw and proceeded hanging his coat up. He supposed he needed to clean his shoes off, but there wasn’t anything around to dry them with. So, he just rubbed the soles of his boots against the ground, making an awful squeaking noise, until all the snow slid off onto the floor. Oikawa burst into the room carrying a mop. He took one look at the floor and nearly fainted at the sight.

            “I cleaned off my boots.” Iwaizumi offered after a scarily long pause.

            “On the _floor_? There’s a mat by the door for a reason!” Oikawa looked incredibly disappointed, leaning his mop against the wall, and crossing his arms in front of his chest as if the gesture could protect him from Iwaizumi’s horrible, snowy boots.

            “Nobody comes in here anyway!” He barked back.

            “Iwa-chan, _I_ come in here!” Oikawa sounded truly astounded. Iwaizumi opened his mouth to yell something obscene back, but Oikawa spun on his heel for the second time that morning and stalked out of the room. Iwaizumi’s mouth hung open for a moment as the sound of Oikawa’s footsteps faded out of earshot. His mouth snapped shut and he clenched his fists by his sides.

            “Hey! Shittykawa! Get back in here!”

            There was no response.

            “What are you-” His sentence was cut short by Oikawa bumping into him, carrying a second mop.

            “Iwa-chan! Watch where you’re going!” He scolded, waving a finger at Iwaizumi. He then shoved the mop into Iwaizumi’s hands. “Clean up!”

            “Stop ordering me around.” Iwaizumi grumbled angrily. Despite this, he proceeded to clean the floor anyways. Oikawa mopped alongside him, humming a tune as he did so.

            “You’re weirdly cheerful today. Why?” Iwaizumi observed. Oikawa stopped humming for a moment.

            “Some old friends of mine are visiting the shop today. I told them about how fantastic everything on the menu is.” He began humming again once he was done speaking.

            “But you only ever order one thing.” Iwaizumi stated bluntly.

            “Maybe,” Oikawa shrugged, “but I’m sure everything else is just as good. Besides, this shop has hot employees.” His eyes widened, then became unreadable. “I’m referring to myself, of course.” They looked at each other for a moment, before Oikawa fell into nervous laughter and Iwaizumi quickly turned to hide his reddening face.

            “That was dumb.” Iwaizumi said impulsively.

            “You’re dumb!” Oikawa said defensively.

            “Just clean the floor, dumbass.” Iwaizumi muttered, shaking his head.

            Soon, the wooden floor was once again spotless and shining, and the employees quickly got to work. Oikawa began setting up the stage, tuning his guitar and adjusting the microphone. Iwaizumi tied on his black apron and took his place behind the register. It was routine at that point, Oikawa fit so well into the shop’s system that it felt as if he was always a part of it. The sound of his guitar flowed brilliantly with the elegant swirl of the coffee’s flavor. Customers were clearly enjoying it as well, even if they had to occasionally endure Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s bickering. Iwaizumi felt at peace while he was at the shop. That is, until a group of loud-mouthed girls sauntered through the door.

            Iwaizumi immediately felt bothered by them, for reasons unknown to him. Maybe it was the way they spoke quietly amongst each other, or how they walked in a tight pack. Maybe it was the way they didn’t buy anything, walking straight by the counter to sit at a table. Or maybe it could’ve been because they picked the table directly in front of Oikawa. They all giggled and flirtatiously waved at him, prompting him to smile back warmly. Iwaizumi felt queasy. Hanamaki sensed his discomfort and followed his eyes until he saw the group of girls as well.

            “Do you know them?” Hanamaki asked without looking up from his work. He placed a cap on the finished coffee cup, then handed it to Matsukawa.

            “House blend, with cream and sugar.” Matsukawa called out, placing the cup on the counter.

            “No.” Iwaizumi said. Hanamaki cocked an eyebrow.

            “Alright, then.” He left the conversation at that.

            Oikawa finished his song within two minutes. He began to place his guitar carefully back in its case, causing Iwaizumi to stop writing an order on a cup and watch him. He stepped off the stage, and began walking towards the girls from earlier. Hanamaki nudged Iwaizumi to keep working. He quickly scribbled the order down and passed the cup to Hanamaki, then returned his gaze to Oikawa. The girls excitedly sprung up from their seats and surrounded Oikawa, babbling obnoxiously and trying to get his attention. Oikawa smiled confidently, making his rounds with each girl. He laughed lightly, looking at ease. Iwaizumi furrowed his eyebrows. He knew Oikawa said he had friends visiting, but he didn’t expect a group of fangirls to parade into his coffee shop, nor did he expect Oikawa to take his break so early just to talk to them.

            “They don’t even know how to be discreet.” Hanamaki tutted with a sigh, referring to the group of fangirls whom he was also watching.

            “What?”

            “The flirting.” Hanamaki said.

            “Oh yeah…” Iwaizumi saw one of the girls place a hand on Oikawa’s arm flirtatiously as she laughed at something he said. She had long, pretty, black hair that seemed as smooth as silk. She tossed it over her shoulder as she spoke, looking up into Oikawa’s eyes through thick eyelashes. Oikawa smiled charismatically back at her, happily making conversation and playing along with her flirting. He felt incredibly bothered by the sight, but he didn’t understand why.

            “I’ve lost hope in you.” Hanamaki sighed. “Also, stop clenching your jaw.”

            Iwaizumi was taken aback when he noticed that he was, in fact, clenching his jaw unknowingly. He blinked in his surprise. What had gotten into him? A million different excuses for his behavior flowed through his mind like the rapids of a flowing river, yet he found himself walking straight towards Oikawa and his group of admirers.

            “Iwa-chan! So good to see you!” Oikawa exclaimed once he noticed him walking over. Iwaizumi slid past the throng of girls and whacked Oikawa on the arm, making the girl retract her hand with a startled yelp. “What was that for?” Oikawa asked as he exaggeratedly rubbed his arm. Iwaizumi paused for a moment. What _was_ that for? He was just working the register when he saw Oikawa meeting up with old friends, who happened to be flirting with him, and then… Sorting through his motives made him frustrated, so he instead scowled at his coworker and pointed at the abandoned stage accusingly.

            “Get back to work, Trashikawa.”

            “But, _Iwa-chan_!”

            “Actually, Oikawa…” The girl who was touching Oikawa’s arm studied Iwaizumi and Oikawa thoughtfully, looking between the two. “We have to get going anyways.” Oikawa looked surprised, since they only just got there. Her tone quickly shifted from serious back to the gushy, bubbly tone she used before. “You sounded super amazing, though! Have fun at work!” She waved flirtatiously, but something was off about it. Iwaizumi didn’t have time to look into it, since she and the rest of the girls turned around and left the shop immediately after.

            The pair they left behind watched them go, their faces reflecting the same confusion. Oikawa was the first to speak.

            “You scared all the girls away with your mean face!” He said childishly.

            “Shut up.”

            “Aw, you just want me all to yourself! Don’t you, Iwa-chan?” He pat his shoulder teasingly, unaware of the way Iwaizumi’s muscles tensed underneath his touch.

            “I’ll punch you.” He grumbled, shoving Oikawa’s hand off his shoulder with a huff. It didn’t seem to faze Oikawa in the slightest, since he began his humming again and practically skipped back onto the stage.

            Iwaizumi watched him go for a moment. He felt a strange, fluttering feeling in his chest as he watched Oikawa flick open the buckles on his guitar case. His brunette hair was illuminated by the light the window let in, as it was during the first break Iwaizumi spent with him. He was forced into it by Hanamaki but after that, they did it on their own accord. They had spent every break together since, and Iwaizumi suffered through Oikawa’s horrible jokes and failed attempts at teaching Iwaizumi how to read music. He would pull out the simplest sheet music from the binder he carried with him, it would be on slightly yellowed paper and splattered with latte stains, but Oikawa poured over it like it was the most perfect thing in the world. His eyes would be alight with passion as he explained what the symbols meant and how the notes coded onto the staff. Iwaizumi tried to listen, he really did, but he could never focus for some reason. He could never focus around Oikawa no matter what the circumstance, and he couldn’t understand why. To spare himself the frustration of trying to figure it out, he simply set his confusion aside.

            It was nothing, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you have feedback!! Thank you so much for reading, and I apologize for such a boring chapter.


	4. Ukai's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa loses his guitar pick and he can't play without it. Iwaizumi takes him to buy a new one, and shit gets wild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA BEFORE YOU READ: I'm going on vacation in two days, so I won't be able to update for awhile. Here's an extra long chapter so make up for it!! I'm so sorry for the inconvenience AAA OK ONTO READING!!!

            In the morning, Iwaizumi shook off what happened with Oikawa the day before. Snow was falling, twisting and twirling to the ground soothingly, and he could forget his jumbled emotions. The snowflakes lay neatly on the brick leading up to the coffee shop, politely leaving room for employees and customers to climb the steps. The freezing wind whipped at his face as he wrapped his gloved hand around the metal doorknob, pulling it open to a gust of warmth from inside.

            He pulled off his jacket and made it halfway to the employees’ room before remembering to clean his boots free of snow. He returned to the mat in the coffee shop’s doorway and began scraping his soles against it. If it was quiet enough, he could still hear Oikawa’s stern lecturing about his messy boots from the day before. He sighed. He definitely wanted to avoid another fiasco like that one.

            He was pulled out of his thoughts by the harsh sound of a slammed door. Oikawa flew out of the employees’ room, letting the door fall shut behind him. He didn’t even notice Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s annoyed expressions as he slipped past them and out from behind the counter. He then began briskly weaving in between tables, glancing underneath them and looking disappointed when he moved onto the next one.

            “Oi! It’s early, would ya mind shutting doors quieter?” Iwaizumi grumbled. Oikawa was startled out of his search, jumping a bit at Iwaizumi’s complaint. When Oikawa finally faced Iwaizumi, he began to feel a bit guilty for snapping at him.

            Oikawa looked incredibly upset. Lines were etched into his smooth skin with worry, and Iwaizumi noticed the way he nervously fiddled with the baggy sleeves of his black knit sweater. His glasses were slightly askew, which he normally would adjust right away, but he didn’t seem to really notice nor care.

            “I can’t!” Oikawa wailed, his voice coated in overdramatic despair. “I lost my guitar pick!”

            “What?” Iwaizumi furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

            “My guitar pick! I can’t play without it.”

            Iwaizumi thought of all the guitarists he had seen perform. He had seen plenty use their fingers to strum the chords, both street performers and professionals in concerts. Judging by the skill Oikawa clearly had, he shouldn’t have needed a silly guitar pick. However, his distressed expression told Iwaizumi otherwise.

            “This one is special!” Oikawa whined, filling Iwaizumi’s thoughtful silence. “I’ve had it ever since I started playing guitar.”

            “Can’t you just get another one?” Iwaizumi asked, not quite understanding.

            “No!” he exclaimed, running a hand through his already slightly disheveled hair.

            “He’s been looking for it for hours.” Matsukawa said tiredly from where he was polishing the drink pick-up counter.

            “He got here before any of us just to look for it.” Hanamaki sighed as he swept the wooden floor with a broom, cleaning any filth that was dragged in by their boots. The couple looked exhausted by both Oikawa’s frenzy and the early hour.

            Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa for a moment, cautiously taking in his flustered state. His pale cheeks were flushed rosy by stress and his eyes darted around the shop, triple checking every corner for his pick. A thread stuck out from the right sleeve of his sweater at an odd angle, which he continuously tugged at unknowingly.

            To the other employees’ surprise, Iwaizumi pulled his coat back on and slipped his gloves back onto his still icy fingers.

            “Where are you going?” Oikawa asked, twirling the loose thread around his finger.

            “We’ll be back later.” Iwaizumi said, nodding towards Matsukawa and Hanamaki. The other baristas exchanged knowing looks, then grinned at Iwaizumi.

            “Have fun!” Hanamaki called.

            “Let’s go, idiot.” He grabbed Oikawa’s wrist and tugged him towards the door. Iwaizumi barely gave Oikawa time to retrieve his coat from where it was thrown haphazardly onto a table by the door. The bell rang from above them as the pair strode through the door and into the sharp winter air. The snow crunched under Iwaizumi’s boots as he thundered down the steps and onto the sidewalk outside the shop.

            “Where are we going?” Oikawa repeated, pushing his glasses up as he was dragged behind Iwaizumi. “And stop walking so fast!”

            Iwaizumi’s eyes widened as he realized he was still holding onto Oikawa. He glanced behind him, his eyes focusing on his smaller hand around Oikawa’s wrist. The dark black of his sweater contrasted with his light skin tone, which made Iwaizumi’s olive green gloves look out of place. He quickly retracted his hand as if the contact sent an electric shock through him. He gulped, choosing to look at the road rather than Oikawa as he fell into step with him.

            “We’re going to that music shop down the block.” Iwaizumi said while watching cars race past on the road. The speed of the cars sent gusts of air towards him, which ruffled Iwaizumi’s hair and caused Oikawa to finally put on his jacket, pulling it tightly around himself to ward off the chill.

            “Ukai's?” Oikawa asked, his face lighting up.

            Iwaizumi nodded. Oikawa smiled.

            “I love that shop! I go there whenever I need new strings for my guitar. I even bought a ukulele there the other day!” He laughed, his eyes crinkling joyfully in the way they always did when he spoke about music. “Iwa-chan, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We can visit sometime and I can show you all the cool guitars.”

Iwaizumi finally tore his eyes away from the road and looked at Oikawa. He beamed at him almost as if he hadn’t been upset moments before.

Iwaizumi felt his heart skip a beat. His abrupt burst of nervousness made him regret ever looking away from the busy street, no matter how much he scolded himself to try to make it go away. Oikawa gained a gleeful bounce in his step, his long strides matching perfectly with Iwaizumi’s short, brisk ones. Iwaizumi internally pinched himself awake. His thoughts kept drifting and it was beyond confusing him.

            “Why can’t you just play without the pick?” Iwaizumi asked, still not fully understanding the situation.

            Oikawa went silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He angled his face towards the wind, letting it glide through his hair softly. For a moment, the two were left with nothing but the sound of crunching snow and busy city streets.

            “My mother gave it to me.” Oikawa said fondly, his eyes looking unreachable as he reminisced. “She gave me my guitar years ago when I first went away to college. She always loved music.”

            “Couldn’t she just get you another one?”

            “She died about a few months ago.” Oikawa stated, smiling sadly at Iwaizumi. They stopped walking momentarily as Iwaizumi felt like the biggest, dumbest asshole in history. He didn’t know if he should comfort him or say something. He awkwardly stood there, stuttering a response.

            “I didn’t know. I-”

            “It’s alright.” Oikawa assured him, patting his shoulder with a smile Iwaizumi knew was forced. He motioned for Iwaizumi to keep walking, and they were back on their way. “She had been sick for some time. I learned how to play guitar because I wanted to be able to play for her when I visited her. I still know all her favorite songs by heart, and now I lost the guitar pick she gave me…” Oikawa trailed off, his voice getting quieter as he went on. His eyes glistened. Iwaizumi wanted to comfort him, but he wasn’t sure how. He was at a complete loss for words.

            “You don’t have to say anything.” Oikawa said, reading Iwaizumi like a book. He must have looked absolutely dumbfounded, because Oikawa took a single look at him and burst into laughter. “Iwa-chan! Don’t keep your mouth open or you’ll catch flies!” He teased.

            “There aren’t any flies out in winter, idiot.”

            “Ouch! Mean!” Oikawa seemed to be cheered up a bit by the banter, so Iwaizumi dropped the subject. He could tell Oikawa was still getting over what happened, and he didn’t want to pry.

            They soon reached the music shop. It was a fairly-sized building, with a few flower pots placed uncharacteristically outside the bright orange door. They were a new addition, so Oikawa took note of them right away. Above the door was a black sign that said “Ukai's” in white, bold lettering. Iwaizumi was familiar with the shop. It was on his way home, so he would visit sometimes to look at the instruments after work. Most of the employees were extremely loud, but they were just as kind. They seemed intimidating at first, a few having massive amounts of tattoos and piercings, but they always supported Iwaizumi and pushed him to learn an instrument. Oikawa opened the door and walked inside, holding it open for Iwaizumi behind him.

            “Tooru!” One of the employees, Noya, immediately yelled. His voice projected across the whole shop. “And Hajime?! You guys know each other?!” He exclaimed. He was in the middle of tuning a cherry red electric guitar, but he placed it back down on the stand to greet them. He clapped them both on the back, smiling widely.

            Noya had several tattoos on his bicep, nearly enough to make a full sleeve but he wasn’t quite there yet, but they were hidden by the baggy gray sweatshirt he wore. He recently dyed the blonde area in the front of his hair to a cherry red that matched the guitar. Noya would be intimidating, if it weren’t for his short stature.

            “Yamaguchi!” He shouted into the back of the shop where Yamaguchi sat by the cash register. The younger employee looked up through a mop of dark hair. For a moment, the light hit it in a way that revealed the deep purple streaks among the natural brown, but they were subtle enough to blend in.

            “Hey!” He greeted warmly. His tongue ring glinted as he spoke. Compared to Noya, he didn’t have many tattoos. He only had a few on his fingers and arms, but he had been warming up to the idea of getting a sleeve with Noya’s encouragement. The group joined Yamaguchi at the counter. “We dropped in to see Oikawa perform the other day, so you already knew they work together.” Yamaguchi pointed out.

            “Oh yeah! You sounded awesome! You get better each time I hear you play, dude. I guess I forgot you’d be working with Iwaizumi now.” He laughed. Yamaguchi headed towards where a stack of music books was placed on the counter, but Noya quickly scooped them up and began sorting them for him. He grinned at Yamaguchi cheekily and began cheerfully doing Yamaguchi’s work. Yama sighed, but smiled at Noya as he sped off to place the books in the display case at the front of the shop.

            “What can I help you guys with today?” He asked, still keeping a watchful eye on Noya.

            “We’re here to pick up a guitar pick.” Iwaizumi said.

            “That’s it?” Yamaguchi asked, cocking his head in confusion. “…Or maybe you’ll finally buy a guitar, Iwaizumi?”

            “Yes!” Oikawa exclaimed, clapping his hands together as if he just decided for him.

            “Just a pick.” Iwaizumi said, ignoring Oikawa.

            “Alright, you know where they are.” Yamaguchi said, gesturing towards the guitar section.

            Oikawa and Iwaizumi headed towards the corner of the shop where wide ranges of guitars were displayed on the wall, and sat on stands on the floor. There were so many that Iwaizumi often tried to count them, but he would quickly lose count. There was an area dedicated exclusively to ukuleles and the shop had any shade of any color you could imagine, making the display resemble a rainbow. Underneath the ukulele display was a shelf that stored things such as spare guitar strings, new guitar straps, and guitar picks. The picks were stored in transparent jars, which Iwaizumi spotted right away. He pointed them out to Oikawa.

            “There you go. Pick one so we can get back to work.” Iwaizumi said, but Oikawa didn’t move.

            “I want you to pick it out, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to argue, but quickly shut it once he remembered the way Oikawa was talking about his previous guitar pick. He knew he probably would end up enduring a picky critique of whichever one he chose, knowing Oikawa. Despite that, Oikawa looked at him hopefully, a stupid smile plastered on his face as he nodded encouragingly, and Iwaizumi found himself taking his orders yet again. He huffed.

            “Fine.”

            Reluctantly walking over to the shelf, he removed the lid of the rightmost jar and began rifling through his options. As his eyes bored over the same picks repetitively, he realized that he didn’t know Oikawa well enough to choose for him. What if he chose a pick that Oikawa found ugly? What if he picked one that was too cheap? He could picture the way Oikawa’s nose would wrinkle at him. He knew he was overthinking, but he couldn’t help it when his hands began to sweat.

            His eyes settled on a particular guitar pick that lay within a sea of plain black ones. It was navy blue, with flecks of silver in it that reminded Iwaizumi of the night sky. He reached for it, retrieving it and examining it in his hands. He wasn’t sure if it was a good quality, or how much money it was worth. How much did guitar picks even cost? Even so, it reminded him of the stupid aliens Oikawa would try to tell him were real every day when he had his break. It was fitting, in an odd way.

            “Did you find one?” Oikawa asked, peeking over his shoulder. Once he saw it, he gasped. “Iwa-chan! I’m shocked you didn’t pick an ugly one!” He teased, his eyes raking over the new pick.

            “Shut up. I’m getting you a few extra ones so this doesn’t happen again.” Iwaizumi grumbled, grabbing three plain black guitar picks from the jar.

            “I’m responsible. I never lose things.” Oikawa said proudly, raising his chin high.

            Iwaizumi scoffed.

            “Hey! Not kind!” Oikawa smacked him on the arm lightly and followed him back to where Yamaguchi sat behind the counter. Iwaizumi placed the four guitar picks on the counter and Yamaguchi began ringing him up.

            “You know, you should really buy yourself a guitar while you’re at it.” Oikawa said in a singsong voice. Yamaguchi nodded in agreement while getting them a tiny paper bag to carry the picks in.

            “Save it, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi muttered, getting flustered. He finished buying the guitar picks for Oikawa, then waved Yamaguchi goodbye and the two began walking out of the shop. As Oikawa reached for the door handle, Noya came rushing over to say goodbye.

            “I love the flowers in the front of the shop.” Oikawa said, as Iwaizumi furrowed his eyebrows and craned his neck to search for them. “Did Yamaguchi bring them in?”

            “He likes to garden. We’re keeping them.” Noya said stubbornly, growing embarrassed under Oikawa’s calculated stare. They finished bidding their goodbyes and they soon were back on their way down the street.

            Oikawa was carrying the paper bag, swinging it along as he strode beside Iwaizumi. He hopped out of the way of slushy snow puddles, but Iwaizumi stomped right through them, getting snow on the bottoms of his pant legs.

            “Don’t get snow on me!” Oikawa whined, jumping out of the way and holding his hands up to guard himself. Iwaizumi smirked as he got an idea, then raced over to the nearest snowbank. He grabbed a handful of snow, packing it tightly into a ball and aiming at Oikawa. Oikawa spun around to face the opposite way. “DO NOT!” He shouted at Iwaizumi, outraged at the thought of his face getting hit. Iwaizumi launched the snowball at him, hurling it through the air to land right in the back of Oikawa’s head.

            “Abuse!” Oikawa shrieked. “Absolute cruelty!” He shook the snow from his hair but some slipped down the neck of his coat, making him jolt at the cold. Iwaizumi stifled his laughter. “Not funny!”

            Oikawa ran over to the snowbank and began making a snowball of his own. He took a step, getting ready to throw it, but instead slipped on the ice and began to fall. He collided with Iwaizumi, falling on top of him with a thud. Iwaizumi fell hard on his back, grunting under Oikawa’s weight.

            “Ow…” Oikawa mumbled. He sat up, surprised to find the ground beneath him to be unexpectedly soft. Then he realized that he wasn’t sitting on the ground, he was straddling Iwaizumi who he must have fallen on by mistake. “Oh!” He yelped, his ears growing pink as he froze in place.

            Iwaizumi groaned, propping himself up on his elbows and rubbing the back of his head. The initial stinging began ebbing away, so he let his eyes flutter open. He was preparing himself to yell at Oikawa to get off, when his heart practically climbed into his throat.

            He was met with a pair of hazelnut eyes, wide as saucers, and only centimeters away from his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I slipped a few more characters in and added a setting change because I felt things were getting a bit boring, so I hope you enjoyed! Be sure to leave a comment with feedback because I always love reading them :)


	5. Homemade Soup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: My friend is writing a fic accompanying this one!! It focuses on the music shop, Ukai's, and it's set in the same universe. I recommend checking it out!! It's one of my favorite fics she's written and it's just really good, trust me. It's linked to this fic under "works inspired by this one" for anyone interested in checking it out!!

Iwaizumi felt like he had been struck by a match, every point of contact between himself and Oikawa burning like a wildfire. Oikawa was scarily still from where he straddled Iwaizumi, besides the slight movement of his hair in the cold wind. They stared at each other, unable to come up with anything to say. As much as Iwaizumi tried, he couldn’t harness all the right words to make a sentence. Time seemed to have slowed. How long had they been frozen like that? And how long had Iwaizumi been staring? He wasn’t sure. He noticed nothing else outside of the unreadable hazelnut eyes before him, and the curvatures of Oikawa’s lips.

            Seeing Oikawa this close made him feel alive with the same electric shock from when he held his wrist earlier. He noticed that Oikawa’s eyelashes were a few shades darker than his hair, making them look fuller than they truly were. The skin that he previously assumed to be free of blemishes actually had the lightest, smallest amount of freckles dappling his nose. Iwaizumi doubted they could be seen without directly looking for them. Oikawa was less perfect up close, but it was strange because all his microscopic imperfections were what made him so…

            Iwaizumi felt like he had been hit upside the head. Oikawa was _pretty_ , and it puzzled him beyond belief. A deep red flushed his complexion. He gulped, suddenly hypersensitive to exactly how close Oikawa’s lips were to his. His nerves went out of his control, whirring about and sending his heartbeat thundering. Bewilderment laced every thought that zoomed around in his head. He didn’t understand how a moment could be so silent, but still so _loud_.

            “O-oh, I’ll-” Oikawa stammered, shifting on top of Iwaizumi to get up. Everything that was loud about the moment fell quiet.

            “Right. Yeah…” Iwaizumi was snapped back into focus as Oikawa gingerly lifted himself off Iwaizumi and brushed the snow off his jacket. He coughed, using it as an excuse to cover his blush with his sleeve, like he did that night while cleaning up the coffee shop. It was cute, in a weird way. Iwaizumi wanted to punch himself in the face. Oikawa was _annoying_ , not _cute_. That was a rule in and of itself, and Iwaizumi wanted to drill it into his head.

            He began to sit up, when a sharp pain sliced through his lower back like a dagger. He must have fallen on it wrong, because the pain was enough to cause him to stop and mutter obscene words. His eyes stung. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.

            “Iwa-chan!” Oikawa yelped, rushing to kneel next to him. With eyes narrowed in concentration, he began to scan Iwaizumi to detect how much pain he was in. His eyes grazed over what seemed like every detail Iwaizumi had to offer, yet Oikawa still spent his time analyzing him. Under Oikawa’s gaze, Iwaizumi adopted a bundle of nerves that did nothing to help the situation. “Can you get up?”

            “Of course I can.” He said, lacking confidence in his words. He gradually brought himself into sitting position, biting his cheek harder as the pain shot through his entire back. He ignored Oikawa’s worried expression and instead stared into the dull, gray sidewalk beneath him.

            “Take my hand and I can help you up.”

            Oikawa extended his hand to Iwaizumi. The same worry lines from earlier that morning returned to his face as Iwaizumi took ahold of his hand and struggled to get up, even with Oikawa’s aid. Once he was on two feet, Oikawa held him steady by placing his arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulders for support. Iwaizumi felt his ears grow pink.

            “I don’t need help.” He said defensively. Oikawa scoffed.

            “You couldn’t sit up!” He pointed out, though he was slightly impressed by Iwaizumi’s stubbornness.

            Iwaizumi responded with a defeated sigh as he swung his arm around Oikawa so he could lean on him. With that, they slowly hobbled their way back down the block and up the steps of the coffee shop. They took each step slowly, wobbling a bit in their clumsiness. Oikawa insisted on opening the door, the familiar chime of the bell setting Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s attention to them. They initially looked as amused as they always did when Oikawa and Iwaizumi interacted, but their expressions grew concerned as they took in Iwaizumi’s pained posture and Oikawa’s air of panic.

            “What happened?” Hanamaki asked. He and Matsukawa briskly sped to the other employees. Matsukawa thoughtfully pulled out a chair at the nearest table and Oikawa carefully lowered Iwaizumi into it, despite his objections.

            “Nothing. I’m fine.” Iwaizumi said gruffly, glaring ahead at nothing in particular.

            “Clearly you’re not, dude.” Hanamaki said. He looked at Oikawa for an explanation. Oikawa gestured wildly, beginning to tell a fragmented recollection of the events.

            “I slipped.” Iwaizumi interjected in fear of Oikawa mentioning the… other things that happened while on their trip to the music shop.

            “You look really hurt.” Matsukawa stated the obvious, causing the other two to look over Iwaizumi for what seemed like the hundredth time. “You should head home.”

            “What?” Iwaizumi was taken aback. He never took a day off. Even if he was only a barista, he always worked as hard as he could. The idea was entirely new and alien to him. “I’m fine!”

            “Take the day off.” Hanamaki said gently. As Iwaizumi looked from face to face of his coworkers, he was disappointed to see them nodding their agreement. Oikawa looked like he was about to say something, but Matsukawa beat him to it.

            “Oikawa, take him home.”

            “What?!” Oikawa whipped his head to shoot a questioning look at him.

            “Just make sure he gets home alright. You can come back after.” Hanamaki assured him. Oikawa seemed to relax a little, but Iwaizumi still felt somewhat betrayed.

            “I don’t need to go home!” He protested. His coworkers raised their eyebrows in response, making him less convinced of his argument with each passing second. His back _did_ hurt pretty badly, and he knew the work day would be absolutely miserable if he stayed… After a moment or two, he finally broke. “Fine.”

            Oikawa helped him out of his chair, allowing him to lean all his weight on him. Iwaizumi avoided his concerned gaze. He was still embarrassed about having to take a day off. He had never done it before, unless he was sick of course. He wouldn’t want to infect the customers. The whole thing seemed a bit ridiculous to him but on the other hand, he couldn’t walk.

            He and Oikawa bid their goodbyes and left the shop for the second time that snowy morning, entering the winter air yet again. The bell chimed from behind them as they went on their way.

            “Oooh! I get to see Iwa-chan’s house!” Oikawa said cheerfully. Iwaizumi groaned. Despite the situation, Oikawa always knew exactly how to get on his nerves.

            “I’ll dropkick you.”

            “Ouch!”

            They reached a crosswalk, waiting for the blaring traffic to thin enough for them to cross.

            “I wonder what juicy secrets Iwa-chan’s keeping inside his magnificent, stunning abode.”

            “It’s an apartment.”

            “Are you going to give me the grand tour? Pour me a glass of wine? Oooh, I can drape myself across your grand piano and sing you a jazzy tune!”

            “Please don’t.”

            They decided it was safe enough to cross, so they began walking as quickly as they could along the striped crosswalk. They had gotten fairly used to walking together, surprisingly. They significantly tripped and stumbled less. Luckily there wasn’t a thick crowd, or their progress would have been announced too soon.

            “You’d love it. I can cover the piano in rose petals.”

            “I can walk home alone.”

            “Iwa-chan, it’s _art_.” Oikawa elbowed him. He sounded so genuinely hurt that Iwaizumi chuckled a bit, and then they were both caught in a fit of laughter. The sound of their combined laughter floated above the din of the bustling city streets and the underlying nervous tension between the musician and the barista. Oikawa covered his giggles with his hand, which looked undeniably cute. Iwaizumi was glad his face was already flushed from the cold.

            “You really do live only minutes away.” Oikawa noted as he stared up at the apartment complex before them. It was a large building, fit with many windows marking the massive amount of residents there. Oikawa shifted his arm on Iwaizumi causally, unaware of the jolts of electricity he sent through Iwaizumi’s veins.

            They struggled through the metal revolving door that led into the building’s lobby, thankfully making it out unscathed. The lobby was clean and neat, with an organized color scheme of beiges, reds, and golden accenting. To the left of the entrance was a sitting area, as well as another area with games and televisions for children to spend time together. To the right was a desk where the receptionist usually sat with a nail file, or playing solitaire on his computer. He was a nice man who often bid Iwaizumi safe travels when on his way to work. Straight ahead was the elevator, with a cluster of three people waiting outside of it.

They hobbled through the lobby, ignoring the stares of the other residents, and made a beeline towards the elevator. Oikawa looked like he was on some type of rescue mission, with stare intently focused on the destination and his constant glances to Iwaizumi to make sure he was alright. Iwaizumi wondered if he would ever get used to Oikawa’s dramatics.

            Once they reached the elevator, Oikawa began impatiently tapping his foot. The people by the elevator gave him aggravated looks, but he paid them no mind. He looked so focused on getting Iwaizumi to his apartment that he looked ridiculous. If it weren’t for the state of pain Iwaizumi was in, maybe he would have laughed.

            The elevator chimed once, meaning it was time to get inside. The other people hung back, allowing Oikawa to lug Iwaizumi in first. Then they silently filed in behind them and the golden doors slid shut. Once the others began punching in the buttons for their floor, Iwaizumi realized he needed to do the same. He took a shaky step forward, but Oikawa held him back.

            “Which floor?” He asked.

            “Fourteen.” Iwaizumi stated.

            Oikawa pressed the glowing button for the fourteenth floor, and the elevator began their ascent. Oikawa’s worry lines weren’t showing any slack, even as they climbed higher and higher up the building. One of the other residents in the elevator left at the fifth floor, and another at the eleventh. There was only a little old lady left inside the elevator with Oikawa and Iwaizumi after the last passenger left. A few moments after the doors slid shut, the lady spoke up.

            “Are you alright, dear?” Her frail voice asked as she peered up at Iwaizumi.

            “I’ll be alright.” He assured her.

            “What ever happened to him?” She asked Oikawa, who smiled at her gently.

            “He slipped on some ice so we’re heading home.” He explained vaguely. The old woman looked from Iwaizumi to Oikawa and back again. She smiled happily and gave Oikawa an approving pat on the shoulder, causing him to cock his head in confusion.

            “It always warms my heart to see nice, young couples like you two! Take good care of him, my dear!” Iwaizumi’s eyes widened in alarm. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. He whipped his head around to look at Oikawa’s reaction instead, and found him staring right back at him. Oikawa’s mouth hung open, his face bright crimson. Judging from the way Oikawa looked at him in disbelief, he was sure he looked the same way.

            Before either of them could correct her, the little old lady reached her stop, the thirteenth floor. She gave them a cheerful smile and shuffled out of the elevator. The doors slipped shut to leave Iwaizumi and Oikawa alone again. They rode the rest of the way in stunned silence, avoiding eye contact with each other. Tension filled every air pocket inside the tiny elevator, making Iwaizumi feel cramped and nervous.

They were gladly pulled out of their awkward silence by the smooth tone of the elevator. Oikawa adjusted his hold on Iwaizumi again, sending more electric jolts into his veins. They stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were met with a handful of doors to choose from, but Iwaizumi pointed to the door on the far right.

            “That one’s mine.”

            They approached the door. Iwaizumi retrieved his keys from his coat to unlock it, but was held back by Oikawa for the second time.

            “Didn’t you hear the woman in the elevator? I’m taking care of you.” He said proudly, his chin angled up obnoxiously.

            “Don’t remind me.” Iwaizumi groaned. He couldn’t believe Oikawa actually brought it up. His face felt hot. If Oikawa could sense his discomfort, he completely ignored it. He leaned his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, and looked up at him. He batted his eyelashes flamboyantly.

            “I’m _nursing you back to health_.” He drawled with a stupid smirk.

            “You’re so stupid.” Iwaizumi shoved him off. “Unlock the goddamn door.”

            Oikawa sighed, but did as he was told. He took the keys from Iwaizumi, who pulled his hand away immediately to avoid brushing their hands together. The black apartment door swung open, revealing Iwaizumi’s apartment.

            It wasn’t the biggest home in the world, but Iwaizumi was content. He lived alone, after all. He was a busy person so he never got around to painting the walls, leaving them plain white. The entrance to his home was more of a narrow hallway with a closet on the right for placing coats and shoes. The hallway opened up to an open floorplan sort of home, with the kitchen on the right and a living room on the left with a television, a couch, and two chairs. There were also dark, wooden stairs on the left by the living room, which lead to the tiny upstairs area. A few pictures that showed his family hung on the walls in the living room, which were really the only personal touches in sight. Oikawa oohed and glanced around, familiarizing himself with the tiny home.

            “Oh my god.” Iwaizumi lifted his hand to his face in a facepalm, pulling at his skin in exhaustion. “Take your shoes off and put them in that closet. It’s upstairs.”

            “You know, I’m disappointed that there isn’t a grand piano.” Oikawa muttered jokingly as they slipped their shoes off neatly. He placed both Iwaizumi’s and his own shoes in the closet, dusting them free of snow beforehand.

            He managed to hoist Iwaizumi up the stairs through struggle and bickering. They both felt relieved once he finally pulled back the covers and plopped on his bed.

            Iwaizumi’s room, like the first floor of his apartment, was plain. It was an average-sized room with a king-sized bed centered on the wall opposite the door. A desk was on the right side of the bed and a nightstand was on the left side. A few books were stacked in an unstable tower upon the nightstand. Iwaizumi was almost oddly embarrassed when he noticed the messy state his room was in. Upon entering, he eyed the half-empty water bottles with hatred, though he wasn’t sure why he suddenly cared about its cleanliness. He rarely ever tidied up for houseguests.

            “You’re going to sleep in your work clothes?” Oikawa asked worriedly. Iwaizumi wondered just how deep his worry lines could drive into his skin. They didn’t seem anywhere close to leaving, which was ironically worrying itself. Why did Oikawa have to overwork himself all the time?

            “I’m fine.”

Oikawa hesitated for a moment, then reached over Iwaizumi and pulled the warm, dark blue quilt over him. He lifted Iwaizumi’s coat off the floor, where it had been thrown carelessly, dusting it off and draping it over the chair at his desk. He padded back to the bed and sat on the edge of it. He seemed to have a habit of making himself at home, which Iwaizumi strangely didn’t mind.

            “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, shaking his head. However, it didn’t hide his small smile.

            “Shittykawa, I’m _fine_. Stop worrying.” Oikawa held his gaze, studying him.

            “Give me your spare key.”

            “ _What_?”

            “So I can come back later! I need to check and make sure you’re not _dead_.” Oikawa seemed decided, and Iwaizumi knew all too well there was no going back once he made up his mind. He huffed.

            “Fine. It’s under the mat.” Oikawa jumped up from the bed, content with Iwaizumi’s small sacrifice.

            “Now, get some sleep because I’m heading back to work.” He smoothed out Iwaizumi’s blankets one last time, then crossed to the door. “Bye-bye, Iwa-chan!” He called over his shoulder. He pulled the door shut behind him softly, in order to make as little noise as possible.

            For a long time, Iwaizumi was restless. He couldn’t stop running the events of the day through his mind, no matter how hard he tried to ignore them. Images raced through his head like racehorses, images of the punk employees at the music shop, and Oikawa’s sturdy hand pulling him up after the fall. One specific image kept swimming in his mind, and it was of Oikawa’s full lips only a short distance from his own. The way Iwaizumi’s heart stopped in its tracks when he realized how close they were. He was nervous, but weirdly pulled in at the same time.

            He groaned and rolled over, soon falling asleep once his mind was at rest.

 

* * *

 

 

            When he woke up, the sky was painted orange and the sun hung low in the sky. He fished for his phone within the tangle of blankets around him and unlocked it to check the time. It was 5:17, and he supposed he should have something to eat. He carefully at up, clenching his teeth at the burst of pain the slight movement brought him. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and hopped down, on his way to the kitchen

            He was surprised to find a white ceramic bowl covered in protective plastic wrap sitting on the countertop of the breakfast bar in his kitchen. As he examined it closer, he realized it was soup. It was still warm, so it must have been dropped off recently. Beside it was a note on a small, teared piece of paper. The shorthand was neat, written in black ink.

 

_I meant to give this to you myself, but you were asleep when I came in. I didn’t want to wake you because Iwa-chan needs his beauty rest! Anyways, this is my homemade soup. It can fix anything, I swear. Just heat it up and get some rest!_

_-Oikawa_

 

            Iwaizumi read the letter once, then over again. And over again. It was a sweet gesture that caught him completely off guard. He heated the soup up and Oikawa was right. It really _could_ make people feel better. It was the best homemade soup he had ever eaten in his life, which seemed like a miracle because he didn’t expect Oikawa to be a skilled chef.

            Iwaizumi couldn’t help but wonder how many more surprises Oikawa had up his sleeve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update took so long! I'm currently on vacation so I haven't had as much time to write as I normally would. This chapter was rather long, so I hope that makes up for it! Thank you so much for reading, and please leave a comment because I love reading your feedback!


	6. Assumptions

After a restless night’s sleep, Iwaizumi awoke not to his usual alarm but to the sounds of the city outside his window. He groggily sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, gathering his thoughts which were left scattered from sleep. Sunlight seeped in through his windows and danced across his tanned skin. He froze. What time was it? He glanced at his alarm clock and was surprised to see it had been turned off, and angry to learn he had slept in. The alien feeling of being out of routine caused him to remember that he always left his blinds shut, yet they were open that morning. The gears began turning in his head as he got out of bed without bothering to straighten the sheets behind him. His back was still in pain, but he managed to make his way cautiously downstairs. He carefully peeked at the kitchen, just to make sure whoever messed with his alarm and blinds wasn’t still there…

            And was met with the sight of Oikawa sleepily standing over his stove. His back was turned, but his sloppy posture alone told Iwaizumi he was barely awake. His otherwise perfect hair was still tangled in the back and he wore a navy blue sweatshirt that was multiple sizes too big. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows so they wouldn’t get in the way as he cooked, which was a sight cute enough to make Iwaizumi’s heart beat a bit faster. He swallowed, pushing down his unwelcomed nervousness.

            “Oikawa?”

            Oikawa spun around, holding Iwaizumi’s spatula in his hand. His face softened. He adjusted his slightly crooked glasses and smiled. “I thought I’d make breakfast.” His voice was raspy due to the early hour, and it sent Iwaizumi wild with tiny electric shocks of nerves. Oikawa’s expression grew unreadable for a moment as if he was deep in thought about something. Iwaizumi tried his best to study him, but he honestly had no idea what Oikawa was thinking about. It was over in an instant, and he returned to smiling. “You know, to repay you for the guitar picks.”

            “Oh, right.” Iwaizumi took a seat at the breakfast bar. From there, he could see circles of batter pooled out into one of his pans. They were already turning gold around the edges and Oikawa watched over them attentively. “Pancakes?”

            “Yup!” Oikawa leaned against the counter near the stove and faced Iwaizumi. “Did you sleep well?

            “A little too well…” Iwaizumi grumbled. He put his elbows on the table and leaned his face on his right fist. “I know I’m injured, but did you really have to turn my alarm off?” Oikawa dramatically splayed his hand against his heart in exaggerated shock.

            “Me? Iwa-chan, I would _never_.”

            “You would.”

            “I’m devastated!”

            Iwaizumi’s follow-up remark was stopped in its tracks when Oikawa yawned, stretching and letting his eyelids flutter shut. His crinkled nose made him look like a sleepy puppy, and Iwaizumi couldn’t tear his eyes away. Pink hinted at his cheeks and his heart basically climbed into his throat. Why did Oikawa have to be so goddamn _cute_ , even in the morning? Iwaizumi already was disoriented upon waking up. Having Oikawa wear an oversized sweatshirt and cook him breakfast wasn’t helping him focus in the slightest. He shooed away his emotions as if they were pesky flies.

            “Didn’t you sleep?” He eyed Oikawa’s dark under-eye circles and tapped his fingers in a beat on the counter to distract himself. Oikawa turned back to the stove. Iwaizumi could immediately tell he was trying to avoid the question.

            “Yeah, I slept fine.” He poked at the pancakes with the spatula and flashed a smile at Iwaizumi from over his shoulder.

            “Stop lying already.”

            Oikawa’s smile faltered as if he was surprised. He tensed up and furrowed his eyebrows. After another poke at the pancakes, he was still unsatisfied with how cooked they were. “How could you tell?”

            “Your hair looks like a rat’s nest.” Iwaizumi said bluntly.

            “GAH!” Oikawa’s free hand flew to cover his hair protectively.

            “You can barely stay awake to cook.”

            “IWA-CHAN!”

            “And you have bags under your eyes.”

            “Iwa-chan, that isn’t even true. I have perfect skin.” Oikawa made a point of standing up straighter as he bragged, but his act was ruined in a second when he took out his phone and studied his appearance in the front-facing camera. He frowned once he saw the dark crescents that hung below his chocolatey eyes, then sighed and put his phone away. “I was just worried.” His tone was nonchalant, like he didn’t want Iwaizumi to think too far into it.

            “Worried?” Iwaizumi repeated, dumbstruck. He expected Oikawa to have stayed up talking to some girl, maybe one of the ones who fanned over him at the coffee shop. The memory left a sour taste in his mouth.

            “Well,” he flipped the pancakes perfectly like he was some sort of professional chef, “I didn’t want to leave you alone at the apartment.”

            “I was fine.”

            “My soup helped, didn’t it?”

            “It was good.” Iwaizumi admitted with a nod.

            “I know.” Oikawa said smugly. He glanced at the pancakes, poked them with the spatula, and then cheered. “Yay!” He turned to the cabinets that hung on the wall above the counter and gazed over them thoughtfully.

            “I can get the plates.” Iwaizumi said, getting up from his stool.

            “Sit down.” Oikawa demanded as he opened a cabinet at random. Surprisingly, he picked the right one. He lifted two of Iwaizumi’s cerulean plates off the shelf and placed them on the counter, stacking two pancakes on each. Iwaizumi obeyed him and sat without hesitation.

            “Let’s move to the couch. It’ll be more comfortable on your back.” Oikawa suggested.

            “Sure.” Iwaizumi stood up again and averted Oikawa’s worried stare. “Pretty sure you won’t let me get the forks and knives, so they’re in the drawer by the stove.” He said gruffly. He reached the sofa and crammed himself into the very edge of it, leaving miles of space for Oikawa.

            “Here you go, princess.” Oikawa said teasingly as he handed over a plate. Iwaizumi took his breakfast and ignored the way he felt his ears turn red at the stupid nickname.

            “Would you shut up already?” He complained, even though he didn’t really mean it at all.

            “Never.” Oikawa said in his trademark singsong voice he used to piss Iwaizumi off. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, and the pair enjoyed their first breakfast together to the loud sounds of the city.

 

* * *

 

 

            About a half hour later, Iwaizumi was waiting for Oikawa by the door. He already had his coat and boots on and had been waiting for a few minutes.

            “Shittykawa!” He called.

            “Hmm?”

            “Come on!” He wasn’t used to having to wait for anyone in the morning since he usually walked to the shop alone, so he couldn’t help but wonder what the hell Oikawa was doing.

            “I’m washing the dishes.” Oikawa called back, as if reading his mind.

            Iwaizumi had to admit, breakfast was amazing. Oikawa was an excellent chef, which was befuddling to Iwaizumi. He didn’t understand how Oikawa managed to make pancakes that were the perfect balance between fluffy and filling. It had to be some sort of magic, because whenever Iwaizumi tried to make pancakes they were always an unsatisfying mess. He shook his head disbelievingly just as Oikawa entered the hallway.

            “You’ll be glad I cleaned up later.” He said as he removed his brown jacket from its hanger. He pulled on his shoes and they were out the door in no time.

            “You really took the whole ‘nursing me back to health’ thing seriously.” Iwaizumi muttered as Oikawa pushed the button in the elevator that would bring them to the ground floor.

            “You loved it.” He said smugly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He looked too pleased with himself as he confidently held eye contact with Iwaizumi.

            “No.”

            “ _Yes_.”

            They stubbornly stared at each other until an uncalled for spurt of nervousness overpowered Iwaizumi’s hard expression. He looked away, hating to let Oikawa win but needing to break eye contact.

            “Whatever.”

            They elevator doors opened to the lobby. They drew much less attention to themselves than when Oikawa brought Iwaizumi in the day before, which they were both grateful for. They made it through the lobby without being disturbed until they passed the receptionist.

            “Be safe on your way to work, Iwaizumi!” He said warmly as he usually did each morning. He then laid eyes on Oikawa and gestured to him questioningly with his nail file. “Who’s this?”

            “Oikawa.” Iwaizumi said without explanation, which seemed to bother Oikawa. He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest again. The receptionist grinned at them both.

            “Ah, so he’s your boyfriend?”

            Iwaizumi was taken aback. He looked at Oikawa, who seemed less shocked somehow. Iwaizumi’s nails skittishly dug into his palm. “No…”

            “Oh, I’m sorry!” The receptionist chuckled lightly. “You just seem very… close.”

            “Don’t worry, this isn’t the first time someone has thought that.” Oikawa said with ease. Iwaizumi looked at him in awe, astounded by how goddamn charismatic he was. ‘We really should be going. We have to get to work.”

            “Of course. Take care!”

            It was much colder than it was the day before. The chill hit Iwaizumi and Oikawa like a bunch of bricks. It pierced their ears and noses and made Oikawa shove his hands in his pockets for warmth. Cars raced by as they walked side-by-side on their way to the coffee shop, their lights coming and going as quick as darts. Oikawa shuddered, then sneezed, then zipped his jacket higher to protect himself from the low temperature.

“I can’t stand this!” He whined. “How do you walk to work every day?”

Iwaizumi shrugged.

“I _hate_ the cold!”

            Bringing Oikawa along completely defeated the purpose of his morning walks, but Iwaizumi didn’t mind. In fact, Oikawa complimented the mood of his walks nicely. The rise and fall of his voice as he chattered on about meaningless things reminded Iwaizumi of the hum of cars as they flew past him on the street. Having another pair of boots alongside him made the sound of crunching snow all the more full and pleasant. Snowflakes had a tendency to rest upon Oikawa’s light brown locks of hair, which was endearing in a simple way. Some even lay upon his long eyelashes, causing him to blink until they fell off. He was someone exciting that stood out from the tranquil morning, which was something Iwaizumi would never admit out loud.

            Matsukawa was outside shoveling snow again, this time accompanied by Hanamaki. They both cleared the snow from the steps with synchronized efficiency. They were equally as synchronized when they looked up from their work to see Oikawa and Iwaizumi together, flashing them their devious smirks at the same time.

            “Since when do you guys walk to work together?” Hanamaki asked as he looked between Oikawa and Iwaizumi with nosy interest.

            “We don’t.” Oikawa blurted out a bit too quickly.

            “Oikawa made breakfast. He was already there.” Iwaizumi said without thinking. He wanted to go back in time and slap himself across the face when he saw Hanamaki and Matsukawa share a sly look.

            “So he stayed the night.” Matsukawa assumed, keeping a remarkable poker face.

            “What? No, I just…” Oikawa trailed off as the couple seemed to stare into his soul, rummaging through all the nonexistent secrets between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi noticed he was floundering so he briskly decided to change the subject.

            “Does the shop need cleaning?”

            “No, it’s all done already since you’re late.” Hanamaki said plainly. Matsukawa tutted in mock disapproval. “Just go on in and try not to do naughty things in the staff room.”

            “Oh my god. _Stop_.” Oikawa said as he walked as quickly as possible past Iwaizumi, flung the door open like he was making some grand exit in a movie, then disappeared into the coffee shop. Iwaizumi was left alone with his prying coworkers and he found himself wishing he had followed Oikawa and left when he still had the chance.

            “Really?” Iwaizumi asked, anger twinging his voice.

            “Was that a bit much?” Hanamaki asked innocently.

            “Did he spend the night?” Matsukawa repeated, lowering his voice as if Oikawa was listening in.

            “ _No_.” Iwaizumi denied firmly.

            “So what happened?” Hanamaki questioned eagerly. With one look at Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s intrigued expressions, he knew there was no escaping their interrogation.

            “He just made breakfast. You know, to repay me for the guitar picks I bought him.”

            “You bought him those?” Hanamaki raised his eyebrows.

            “Uh, yeah.” Iwaizumi shifted his weight uncomfortably. He understood why Oikawa was so quick to leave, and he wished even more that he had done the same. Matsukawa and Hanamaki looked at each other for a moment, having a silent discussion without the use of words.

            “That’s it?” Matsukawa prodded further.

            “Um… He made me soup the night before. It was really good.”

            “You guys are so _gay_.” Hanamaki said, then he and Matsukawa burst into a fit of laughter. Hanamaki leaned over with his hands on his knees because of his own joke. Iwaizumi tapped his foot impatiently. Matsukawa clapped a hand on his back, then pushed him towards the door.

            “Go get him, kid.” He said. Hanamaki howled like a hyena as if Matsukawa was the funniest person in the world. Iwaizumi cringed at being called “kid,” but he ignored them altogether and climbed the steps of the shop.

            Taking a moment to bury his thoughts, Iwaizumi shoved his emotions into the far corners of his brain, gripped the door handle, and swung the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been awhile since I've updated!! I've been busy lately, but I hope to write the next chapter as soon as possible. Thank you so much for reading and feel free to leave a comment because I always love to read them !! :)


	7. Cleaning Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up kiddos because this one's a wild ride ;)

Oikawa sat on his wooden stool on the stage, tuning his guitar. He seemed to be in a world of his own as he tested out a few chords, wrinkling his nose when they sounded off-key. The sleeves of his baggy sweatshirt were rolled up to his elbows like they were when he was cooking, revealing the fair, soft skin on his toned arms. His hair wasn’t styled that morning, due to lack of sleep, so it often flopped in his eyes as he worked. He unknowingly stuck his tongue out slightly while he concentrated. Iwaizumi want to pinch himself for staring for so long, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Unfortunately, Iwaizumi worked at the cash register. That meant he had a perfect, unobscured view of Oikawa for the entire work day. He sighed, feeling exasperated with the situation.

            Oikawa glanced up from his guitar for a moment, meeting eyes with Iwaizumi. They both jumped in surprise, their eyes widening like deer caught in the headlights of a car. Iwaizumi was first to break eye contact, his gaze shifting to the wooden floorboards beneath him. He wasn’t given a millisecond of peace before the floorboards creaked under Oikawa’s footsteps as he headed over to the cash register.

            “Whatcha’ doing?” Oikawa asked, carefree as if he didn’t catch Iwaizumi staring at him. He pressed his hands on the counter and leaned forward, invading Iwazumi’s personal space and regaining his attention. His eyes snapped back to looking into Oikawa’s, which were half-lidded. His complacent smile sat on his face, despite his childish phrasing of words. The entire expression itself seemed carefully constructed to become a mask. Still, Iwaizumi’s heart pounded despite his futile attempts to slow it down.

            “Working. Go back to tuning, Trashikawa.” Oikawa’s mask of confidence disappeared as he pouted at Iwaizumi’s dismissive words.

            “So cold, Iwa-chan!” He whined. “I’m done tuning. I’m just bored.”

            “Sing something, then. Customers have been coming in for a while now.” He gestured to the filled tables around the stage. The shop had been open for a little under two hours, and it was already bustling with city-goers. Oikawa’s eyes swept over the shop for a moment before shrugging. He returned to the stage and fetched his guitar from where it leaned against the wall. Positioning himself on his stool, he wasted no time at all before playing.

            Iwaizumi didn’t recognize the song, but _God_ he sounded amazing. The tempo was slow yet it had a certain kick to it, like drinking the first cup of coffee in the morning. His long fingers looked as nimble as ever as they skipped and glided along the guitar strings, though the rest of his body was so calm. He had a habit of closing his eyes as he sang, like playing music whisked him away to another planet entirely. Each and every note was hit cleanly and perfectly. It made Iwaizumi think of his pathetic excuse for a singing voice, which was rusty except for in the shower. Maybe music brought Oikawa to another place, but watching him make music was what brought Iwaizumi along with him.

            “I’d like an iced coffee.” The customer in front of him repeated, pulling Iwaizumi out of his trance. He rushed to grab a cup and jot down her order, apologizing before passing the cup to Hanamaki.

            “It’s alright.” She said with a laugh. “He _is_ amazing. Like some kind of genius, really. It must be easy to get distracted.”

            Iwaizumi glanced up at Oikawa for a moment out of habit, unexpectedly meeting his eyes for the second time that day. Unlike the first time, however, he found it hard to look away. Oikawa kept looking at him as he sang, strumming his guitar as if it didn’t faze him at all.

            “Yeah…” Iwaizumi agreed with the customer, rapidly losing interest in talking to her with each passing moment Oikawa spent looking at him. Luckily, she moved on to the counter where Matsukawa would hand over her order. Iwaizumi finally looked away once the next customer approached him. It was a little girl, holding a fistful of money in front of her.

            “Mocha frappe!” She said excitedly. Iwaizumi smiled and grabbed a cup for her. She eyed his pen as he clicked it, and asked a question he had grown to dread: “Can you write my name on the cup?”

            She smiled a big, toothy smile at Iwaizumi. He hesitated for a second, then looked at the pile of crumpled cash she left on the counter. She had probably earned it herself, judging from her proud expression.

            “Of course,” he caved in, “what’s your name?”

* * *

 

            Iwaizumi impatiently tapped his foot underneath the table he and Oikawa usually sat at for lunch. The time to take his lunch break had rolled around, but Oikawa was taking his sweet time packing up his instrument. Iwaizumi rested his head on the pillow his folded arms formed on the table and closed his eyes tiredly. His lunch sat on the table next to him, but he and Oikawa would always wait for each other to finish up their work before eating.

            “Stop being so lazy, Iwa-chan, and get up!” Oikawa said brightly. He stood next to Iwaizumi’s chair, holding out Iwaizumi’s coat for him and wearing his own. Iwaizumi rubbed his eyes, then looked questioningly up at him.

            “Where are we going?” He took his coat and pulled it on.

            “Out.” Oikawa said vaguely with a mischievous smile. Iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t argue. They waved goodbye to Matsukawa and Hanamaki, and left the shop. Oikawa led the way down the street, taking a left like they had done to get to the music shop a few days ago.

            “‘Out’ isn’t a good answer.” Iwaizumi said after a few minutes of walking in comfortable silence. He kicked at the snow a bit as he walked, causing the toes of his boots to get dirty. Oikawa wrinkled his nose in disgust at them, then sighed.

            “Iwa-chan, I was _trying_ to surprise you.”

            “Oh…” Blush crept onto his face, so he turned away from Oikawa in hopes of hiding it.

            “If you _must_ know, we’re just going to lunch at my favorite sushi place. They have fast service, so you won’t miss any of your precious work as a barista.”

            “Shut up.” Iwaizumi grumbled, elbowing him in the side.

            “Joking!” Oikawa reassured him as he watched cars race by. Then, something seemed to occur to him. “Iwa-chan!”

            “What?” Iwaizumi asked, alarmed at Oikawa’s raised voice.

            “What was _that_ about?”

            “What was _what_ about?”

            “Oh my god. Iwa-chan.”

            “WHAT?”

            “Why did you write the little girl’s name on her cup? You _never_ write my name on my cup and I ask you nicely every time and you still turn me down and I can’t believe you would _betray-_ ”

            “Oikawa. She was, like, _ten years old_.”

            “I HAVE FEELINGS TOO!”

            “YOU ARE A GROWN MAN.”

            “Please write my name on my cup.”

            “ _No_.”

            Oikawa gave him one last pouty look, then ripped open the door to the sushi shop. It was nearby, so the walk wasn’t too harmful to Iwaizumi’s back. They found empty stools at the bar in front of the chef, so they quickly sat down and ordered. The restaurant itself was quite small, but Iwaizumi trusted it since Oikawa seemed to like it and he was a bit of a prima donna. He turned out to be right about the service there, since their meals were out in no time.

            “We have to be quick if we’re going to be back in time.” Iwaizumi said through a mouthful of food. Oikawa glanced at the clock on the wall.

            “Relax, we have time.” He pushed a napkin towards Iwaizumi. “Chew with your mouth closed, you ape. There’s food on your chin.”

            Iwaizumi picked up the napkin with lightning speed and cleaned up his face. He was mortified to have Oikawa point it out to him, but Oikawa just laughed and said “You missed a spot” in a singsong voice.

            Soon enough, they finished their lunch and were thanking the chef on their way out of the restaurant. With bellies full of good sushi, their moods soared. Oikawa babbled about his favorite restaurants and Iwaizumi listened to every word. He wanted to visit those places with Oikawa, just to see his face light up even more than it did when he was merely talking about them. He nearly told Oikawa so, but he stopped himself before the words fell out of his mouth. It was a stupid thought, anyways.

* * *

 

            “We’re heading out.” Matsukawa said from the doorway of the coffee shop. He was holding Hanamaki’s hand and swinging it lightly.

            “Don’t forget to lock up.” Hanamaki added.

            “You’re not going to help clean?” Oikawa asked, cocking his head in confusion. Iwaizumi had just flipped the “open” sign to “closed,” but the couple seemed to be in a rush to leave.

            “We cleaned everything this morning.” Hanamaki pointed out. Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi, but he just shrugged.

            “Alright. Be safe.” He warned.

            “Goodnight!” Hanamaki and Matsukawa said in unison before leaving the coffee shop and disappearing down the street.

            “So,” Oikawa clapped his hands together, “I’ll sweep the floor and you clean the tables?”

            Iwaizumi nodded his approval and they got to work. He grabbed a clean rag and the cleaning supplies from where it was stored in the tiny closet in the employee’s room, beginning his cleaning course with the tables closest to the door. One by one, they became good as new while Oikawa weaved through tables with his broom and dustpan. He worked a lot quicker than Iwaizumi. In fact, he was finished with sweeping and had put his supplies away by the time Iwaizumi was about halfway done with the tables. He returned with a clean rag of his own that matched Iwaizumi’s.

            “I can start on this side and we’ll meet in the middle.” He suggested. Iwaizumi nodded. Normally, he would tell Oikawa to go home and rest instead of working late with him. Something, however, made him hold his tongue. Maybe he was just selfish, but he really wanted to draw out the time he spent with Oikawa for as long as possible.

He moved on to the next table, scrubbing more forcefully than before. What had gotten into his head? He tried to sort out his emotions, but they resembled a murky puddle more than comprehensive thoughts. He moved on to the next table. It was stupid, really. He couldn’t even understand his own feelings. He moved on to the next table. Hanamaki and Matsukawa seemed to understand him better than he could himself, and they did it which such ease that it made him envious. He could never express himself very well when he was serious about something. He moved on to the next table. It was more frustrating than anything, when you suddenly realize that your coworker is insanely attractive and you can’t stop your brain from thinking about dumb things. Overanalyzing little details, freaking out over nothing. It got in the way. It was nothing Iwaizumi wanted to be a part of. He moved on to the next table.

            His hand bumped into another and he looked up. Oikawa stood on the other side of the table, holding up a peace sign with the hand he wasn’t using to clean. He beamed at Iwaizumi.

            “Iwa-chan! Watch where you’re cleaning.” He advised, like he hadn’t just rammed his hand into Iwaizumi’s on purpose. “This is the last table so we have to clean it together to be fair.” Iwaizumi was too tired to argue with his logic, so he went along with it. Oikawa kept brushing their hands together and ignoring Iwaizumi’s complaints, so he decided to clean the edge of the table, picking the area closest to him and farthest away from Oikawa. He thought he had bested him, but Oikawa placed his free hand on the table and leaned forward, managing to cover Iwaizumi’s hand completely with the rag. He laughed teasingly, like a bragging little kid who just won a bet. Iwaizumi was fed up, so he leaned forward and cupped his face and….

            Kissed him. In his rage after losing their meaningless little game he cupped Oikawa’s face and kissed him and he was still kissing him while trying to figure out what the _hell_ just happened. Compared to how fast his thoughts were racing around his head in that moment, he knew the cars on the street that he often watched drive by would seem painfully slow. His worries shot around his mind like ping pong balls and he convinced himself his pounding heart would give him a heart attack before he could even explain himself to Oikawa. Was there even anything to explain? He couldn’t understand what led him to kissing him, so what made him think he could explain it?

            But after his initial shock, Oikawa’s eyes fell closed and he kissed back. All of Iwaizumi’s shock became numb to him. He didn’t want to think about it. Oikawa’s lips, the ones Iwaizumi couldn’t get out of his mind since the day he saw them up close, returned his abrupt kiss. They moved against Iwaizumi’s in a rhythm that felt unexpectedly natural, even though Oikawa’s lips were much softer and fuller than Iwaizumi’s. He placed his hand against the taller man’s chest, pushing him away as gently as he could.

            “I-I’m sorry.” He apologized, taking a step backwards. Oikawa’s eyes were wide, like he was terrified of what would come next, and Iwaizumi couldn’t blame him. He was a bit scared himself. “I don’t know-”

            Oikawa looked determined, almost like he had some kind of mission to complete. He moved around the table and stood facing Iwaizumi. His eyes flicked to the collar of Iwaizumi’s shirt before gathering it in his fists and pulling Iwaizumi up to his height for another kiss. Iwaizumi’s heart thudded as he allowed his hands to trail up Oikawa’s back. It was pleasantly firm. Iwaizumi could tell it was muscular even through Oikawa’s sweatshirt. Oikawa leaned forward, hands snaking around Iwaizumi’s waist, and deepened the kiss. He tried to slip his tongue into Iwaizumi’s mouth, which he eagerly allowed in an instant. Oikawa’s fingers traced circles on the strip of skin between Iwaizumi’s shirt and pants. Everything Oikawa did seemed to be perfectly calculated and thought through, which annoyed Iwaizumi. He wasn’t sure what else he would have expected from Oikawa, but he definitely didn’t want to be left behind. In one singular motion, he flipped their positions so Oikawa had his back against the table instead of Iwaizumi.

            “Ooh, _Iwa-chan_! Taking control are we?” His snarky comment got underneath Iwaizumi’s skin which was, unknowingly to Iwaizumi, exactly what he was aiming for.

            “Get on the table.” He ordered in a low voice. Oikawa immediately did as he was told, gracefully lifting himself to sit on top of the table they should have been focused on cleaning. Iwaizumi slipped between Oikawa’s legs, feeling his thighs grazing his sides as he locked their lips once more. One of his hands slipped underneath Oikawa’s sweatshirt and was met with bare skin, revealing that he wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath. The other hand found its way into Oikawa’s hair, wrapping the brown strands around his fingers and pulling them slightly. He couldn’t decide which was softer, his skin or his hair. Both felt like they were made of premium silk, like Oikawa himself was fabricated in hell to be the most goddamn attractive person ever. Everything, from the way his hands firmly gripped Iwaizumi’s hips to little sighs he left against his lips in between kisses, was mesmerizing. If Iwaizumi could commit it to memory, he would without a hit of doubt.

Oikawa wrapped his legs around Iwaizumi, pulling him even closer which was not previously believed to be possible. Iwaizumi pressed a kiss to the corner of Oikawa’s mouth, just outside his lips but not quite there. “Don’t mess around.” Oikawa breathed as Iwaizumi moved down to kiss his jaw. Oikawa’s head fell back, his eyes fluttering shut. It was unbelievable to Iwaizumi to think he hadn’t noticed Oikawa’s beauty from the start. With his perfect hair tousled from Iwaizumi’s hands running through it and his smug exterior shattered under Iwaizumi’s kiss, Iwaizumi could think of nothing prettier. He leaned in to finally kiss Oikawa’s lips, then stopped himself just before he reached him.

            Iwaizumi froze. Oikawa froze. Oikawa detangled his legs from where they were crossed around his torso as Iwaizumi took a few dazed steps backwards. It was as if they had just realized what they were doing. Oikawa slid down from the table, meeting Iwaizumi’s speechless stare with his own.

“I…” For once, Oikawa was at a loss for words. He looked dumbstruck. His hair was still a mess from Iwaizumi’s fingers and his mouth was still slightly agape.

            “See you tomorrow.” Iwaizumi said curtly. He bolted into the employee’s room for his coat, then left the shop without so much of a peek behind him.

* * *

 

            Iwaizumi lay awake in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His sheets were balled in his hands as he begged on his hands and knees for sleep to come. If he were asleep, he wouldn’t be eaten alive by images from whatever the hell happened with Oikawa. He had no idea what he signed up for, and it certainly wasn’t an easy time at work the next day. He wallowed in embarrassment at the thought of hiding it from Matsukawa and Hanamaki. He knew it would be pointless, since they could see through him no matter the circumstance. He should have at least _said something_ , instead of running off. Who makes out with someone out of the blue and then just _leaves_? He smacked a hand to his forehead, but the sting nor the echoing noise could snap him out of his thoughts. Iwaizumi rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow, forcing his emotions and thoughts to shut up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO!! Wasn't that a rollercoaster of sin and excitement?? I'm so sorry for making you wait six whole chapters for them to do so much as kiss, but I'm a huge fan of slow build so I wanted to make sure things progressed smoothly. As usual, thank you so much for reading!! Feel free to leave a comment since I love to read them :)


	8. Morning Snowfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAA I'M SO SORRY FOR BEING INCREDIBLY LATE WITH THIS UPDATE OH GOSH I LEFT YOU ON A MASSIVE CLIFFHANGER

The next day at work was absolute torture.

            “Hey,” Hanamaki’s finger poked Iwaizumi’s cheek for the umpteenth time that morning. “I know _something’s_ up.”

            Iwaizumi stared hard at the brick wall behind the coffee shop’s empty stage. It was already late in the afternoon, and Oikawa called in “sick” for the day. When Matsukawa told him, Iwaizumi was taken aback by the audacity it took Oikawa to fake an illness all because Iwaizumi _kissed him_. Who the _hell_ skips work to avoid someone? It was like they were characters in some shitty movie.

            “He won’t even look at you, Takahiro. That takes stamina.” Matsukawa chimed in from where he lounged against the counter behind him.

            “Very impressive.” Hanamaki agreed.

It was a slow day at the shop. The heavy snowfall prevented most customers from visiting, so there were only two seated at separate tables at the time. The sense of quiet and stillness it created made Iwaizumi want to run outside, away from inevitable interrogations and the music-less café.

            “You know, you could just _tell us_. So we don’t have to pester you anymore.” Hanamaki suggested, missing Iwaizumi’s point entirely.

            “It doesn’t matter.” Iwaizumi said gruffly. After a few moments of unexpected silence from Hanamaki and Matsukawa, he finally glanced at them. Their identical, knowing grins made him instantly regret it.

            “So this is about Oikawa.”

            “Where the hell did you get that from?”

            “It’s totally about Oikawa.”

            “Oh my god.” Iwaizumi put his right hand to his face in exasperation and partly embarrassment. He sighed. “Yeah…” He admitted reluctantly.

            “I knew it!” Hanamaki exclaimed. He waved Matsukawa over. The two stood expectantly around Iwaizumi as if they were little kids and Iwaizumi was about to tell them an exciting story.

            “It’s not that interesting…”

            “Oh, believe me. It is.” Matsukawa said as Hanamaki wiggled his eyebrows jokingly. The two looked so interested in snooping into Iwaizumi’s business that it was almost sad.

            “I just kissed him, I guess.”

            “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH HOT DAMN!” Hanamaki whooped.

            “And then we stopped. And then he _called in sick_.” Iwaizumi added, rolling his eyes again at Oikawa’s theatrical method of escape.

            “He had a fake cough and everything. He was like ‘Oh my gosh, Matsun, I’ve come down with an _awful_ cold. I probably have the flu, or an unidentified illness. I might lose a leg or something.’” Matsukawa added a few, awfully staged coughs for effect. “‘I just _can’t_ come in today. I’m so sick. I can’t bear the thought of infecting you all. But don’t worry. I’ll be back soon to perform.’” Matsukawa added another coughing fit before saying weakly “‘Goodbye.’”

            “I’m gonna kill him.” Iwaizumi said, frustrated. Hanamaki shook his head and tutted disapprovingly.

            “He’s just scared.”

            “That’s so immature…” Iwaizumi remembered the way Oikawa fled the coffee shop on his first day of work, and he remembered the way he himself left hastily after kissing Oikawa. They both were immature. Maybe they both were to blame. Iwaizumi made up his mind.

            “What’s Oikawa’s phone number?” He asked Matsukawa.

 

* * *

 

            “Hello?” Oikawa’s voice asked through the phone. Much to nobody’s surprise, he didn’t sound sick at all.

            “This is Iwaizumi.” Iwaizumi was lying in bed, the fleeting sunset casting beams of light onto his skin through the window. It was nearly dark and he had put off the phone call as much as he possibly could.

            “Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sounded startled. Then, remembering he was supposed to be ill, he made his voice frail. “So sweet of you to worry about me.” Then he coughed his awful fake cough, even adding a little sniffle at the end. Matsukawa wasn’t exaggerating one bit. They really were just as bad as he said.

            “Shut up. I know you’re not sick.”

Oikawa groaned.

            “Idiot.”

            “How did you know?”

            “Just a hunch.” Iwaizumi said flatly.

            A few moments passed. They both knew the reason behind the uncomfortable silence. Iwaizumi was getting impatient with the tension.

            “Do you wanna go somewhere?” He asked. His voice softened marginally, but of course Oikawa picked up on it.

            “Where’s ‘somewhere’?”

            “I don’t know.” He really didn’t. He hadn’t thought about it. “A walk?”

            Another moment passed but this time, the silence was comfortable.

            “Well, alright. If you _insist_.”

 Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but a fond smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

            “Shut up. And bring gloves. It’s cold.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Iwaizumi rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. He was standing at the street corner Oikawa had suggested they meet at. It marked the halfway point between their houses, apparently. The streetlamp’s soft yellow glow tinted the snow banks that Iwaizumi prodded with his toe as he waited, his shadow stretching behind him down the sidewalk.

            “I can’t believe you’re dragging me out when it’s dark, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa complained as he joined Iwaizumi under the streetlamp’s light. It casted shadows across his face, carving out his cheekbones in a flattering way.

            “You agreed to come.” Iwaizumi pointed out. Oikawa looked at him for a moment, then shrugged.

The pair set off down the street, heading nowhere in particular. Oikawa cutely swung his arms as he walked, and Iwaizumi wanted so badly to grab his hand and hold it for a while. He didn’t.

            “Ok, then. But I’m choosing where we go.” Oikawa declared. He didn’t look at Iwaizumi. He instead kept his eyes trained on the passing cars on the road next to him.

            “Why?”

            “Can’t you just trust me?” Oikawa asked, shaking his head like absolutely nothing bad could come out of letting him blindly lead them somewhere random in the middle of the night.

            Iwaizumi opened his mouth to protest, but it quickly shut when Oikawa looked at him with raised eyebrows. He didn’t need to say anything to show that he gave in.

            Awhile later, they stood in front of the entrance to a park.

            “The park?” Iwaizumi asked, looking pointedly at Oikawa.

            “Come on, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa tugged him along by the sleeve as he walked inside.

            There was a towering statue of a king in the center of the entrance area. He sat upon his throne in a posture that suggested distress, with his shoulders hunched forward and his eyes cast toward the ground. In his hand he clutched a few beaten-up flowers. Despite this, his face held the expression of someone who was slightly amused, like all of his troubles were tiny jokes to him. It was oddly out of place in the park, and it stuck out to Iwaizumi like a sore thumb.

            “Iwa-chan, pick up the pace! We don’t have all night!” Oikawa tugged on his sleeve again. He led him to a brick walkway that wound through the park. It was a bit uneven, but that made it all the more endearing. Iwaizumi stepped carefully, whereas Oikawa walked as if he already knew where the uneven bricks jutted out without needing to look. Eventually, they reached a large pond. The surface was clouded almost entirely with ice and instead of ribbitting frogs, the sound of a busy city street hummed distantly. It sounded soothing. Iwaizumi forgot the creepiness of being in a park alone in the dark. There was a bench made of lightly colored wood, which Oikawa sat on and beckoned Iwaizumi to join him.

            “I come here at night when I can’t sleep sometimes.” Oikawa explained once Iwaizumi sat down. “I was here last night, actually.”

            Iwaizumi’s stomach lurched at the mention of last night. He knew what Oikawa was referring to, and what was keeping him awake.

            “You could’ve just came to work.” Iwaizumi grumbled.

 Oikawa smiled and looked at the sky instead of giving a response.

            “You’re such an idiot.” Iwaizumi accused, shoving his cold hands into his pockets. His breath came out in puffs of clouds in the cool winter air.

            “Yeah.” Oikawa admitted. He laughed lightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m not good at pretending to be sick.”

            “You’re the worst.” Iwaizumi exclaimed, laughing alongside him.

            “I really wanted to kiss you, you know.” Oikawa stated plainly, out of the blue. Iwaizumi’s fingers nervously pressed into his palms in the pockets of his jacket. Oikawa’s gaze wheeled on him, tracing over all the angles of Iwaizumi’s face and studying them like he studies his sheet music.

            “I wanted to kiss you too.”

            “I still want to kiss you.” Oikawa said slowly, cautiously watching Iwaizumi’s expression for any sign of discomfort. When Iwaizumi leaned in, Oikawa closed the gap. His lips were cold, much like his gloveless hands as they held Iwaizumi’s face. With the sounds of the familiar pond and the quietness the late hour provided, Oikawa’s nerves settled down to pool in his lower abdomen.

            “You didn’t wear gloves.” Iwaizumi pointed out. As he spoke, his cheeks squished cutely because of Oikawa cupping his face. Oikawa’s hands fell in his lap. He shrugged.

            “I didn’t think I would need them.”

            “You hate the cold. It’s _freezing_.”

            Oikawa waved his hand at Iwaizumi as if dismissing his concern. He grabbed Iwaizumi’s hand, interlacing their fingers.

            “Better?” He pulled Iwaizumi to his feet. “Come on. It’s late, and I still have one stop left.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “This is the coffee shop.” Iwaizumi said, stating the obvious. Oikawa led him back to their workplace, which was almost as odd as the park was at first.

            “Yes. It is. Do you have a key?”

            Iwaizumi fished his keyring out of his coat pocket and fumbled for the right key. It was silver and awkwardly tiny for his hands. He handed it to Oikawa, who fit it into the lock. Once the door was opened, he held the door open for Iwaizumi politely. Iwaizumi cocked his head in confusion, but went into the shop nonetheless. Oikawa waltzed in behind him and flicked the lights on. He pulled out a chair from the nearest table and sat down.

            “Make me a caramel latte?”

            Iwaizumi blinked.

            “I’M NOT EVEN WORKING RIGHT NOW.”

            “Please?”

            “Ugh.” Iwaizumi shook his head, but disappeared behind the counter anyway, muttering something about how unbelievable Oikawa could be. A few minutes later, he returned with Oikawa’s stupid, sugary latte.

“Thank you, Iwa-chan. Thoughtful.” He took his drink from Iwaizumi, then nearly dropped it. “Iwa-chan!”

            Iwaizumi tried to suppress his smile as he pulled out the opposite chair from Oikawa. He lounged back in it, tipping backwards so only the back two legs of the chair were on the ground. “You wrote my name on the cup!”

            “Yeah, yeah.”

            “This is so kind.” Oikawa looked overjoyed as he beamed at Iwaizumi’s messy handwriting.

 

* * *

 

            Soon, it was time to head home. Oikawa insisted on walking Iwaizumi home, despite Iwaizumi’s protests. They stood outside Iwaizumi’s apartment building in the light snowfall of the early morning hour.

“Thank you for walking me home.” Iwaizumi said. He meant it, even though he didn’t want Oikawa to be the only one to walk home alone.

“It’s nothing. You should try to get some sleep, though. So work won’t be too hellish.”

            “You too. Be safe, alright?”

            “We can go out sometime, right? Like, on a date?” Oikawa asked abruptly.

            “Obviously, idiot.” Iwaizumi laughed at him. Oikawa grinned and kissed him once, sweetly.

            “Looking forward to it.”

            Iwaizumi watched him go until he saw that he crossed the street safely. A smile unknowingly slipped onto his face before he headed inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm so sorry for being late!! I've been extremely busy with school lately, so I haven't had any time to write. I've managed to write this with the scraps of time I've found here and there, so I hope it makes up for the suspense I left you with (at least a little??)! Please leave a comment because reading them always feels nice :)


	9. Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: This chapter includes some smut so if you don't want to read it, feel free to scroll past it! Thank you for reading :)

 

A little over a month went by, and it grew warmer. The sweet scent of spring danced nimbly in the air, carried by the breeze through the coffee shop’s open windows. Sunshine poured in as well, lightening the atmosphere after the long winter. Iwaizumi stood by the large front window, peacefully sweeping the old wooden floors. Spring days made him happy.

            They decided to close early that day, for reasons deemed unimportant to Iwaizumi. Oikawa already had someplace in mind for their date that day, so his stomach was too filled with butterflies to focus on anything else. Sure, it wasn’t anything compared to his nerves before their first date, but he didn’t think the butterflies would go away any time soon. Maybe they would _never_ go away.

            Oikawa absentmindedly strummed his guitar to no particular tune, somehow making the jumbled bunch of chords sound perfect to Iwaizumi. His back was to him, but Iwaizumi didn’t need to look at him to know he was sticking his tongue out slightly in concentration. He didn’t need to see him to picture the way Oikawa’s eyes would light up behind his glasses at the sound of a pretty chord, or how he lightly tapped his foot along to his music. Iwaizumi was already head-over-heels for the guy, and he knew it.

            “Hajime,” Oikawa called from where he sat at his usual place on the stage, “you better keep cleaning or we’ll never get out of here!”

            “It’d be nice if you’d help…” Iwaizumi grumbled, motioning to another broom that was leaning on the wall nearby.

            “ _Or_ , we could just leave now.” Oikawa said, hopping off his stool and setting his guitar safely on the ground. He joined Iwaizumi at the window and took the broom from his hands, propping it up against the nearest table. He then settled his hands on Iwaizumi’s waist, pulling him in for a kiss. It was drawn out longer that Iwaizumi initially expected. Oikawa’s hands lingered for a moment before returning to his sides, pulling away right before Iwaizumi could touch him back. “Isn’t the shop clean enough?” He asked innocently.

            “No.”

            Iwaizumi returned to sweeping. As much as he was looking forward to going out that night, he wasn’t about to leave without finishing his work. Oikawa let out a dramatic, impatient sigh and returned to the stage to put away his guitar. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but wonder why he was in such a rush. He could tell wherever Oikawa was taking him was exciting, but-

            “It’s alright. Takahiro and I can finish cleaning up.” Matsukawa offered from behind the counter. Iwaizumi shot Oikawa an accusing look while he wasn’t looking, wondering if he bribed Matsukawa into his offer. However, Matsukawa shook his head as Hanamaki let out a laugh.

            “Have fun, kids!” Hanamaki gestured to the door with a grin. Oikawa took this as a cue to leave, so he quickly grabbed his guitar case and ushered Iwaizumi out the door. They were down the brick steps and onto the sidewalk before the bell on the door stopped ringing, heading down their usual route to Iwaizumi’s house.

            “Why are you rushing?” Iwaizumi asked with an amused tone, taking hold of Oikawa’s hand to slow him down a bit. Oikawa smiled and swung their hands gently as they walked.

            “It’s a surprise! I’m not going to spoil it for you, Iwa-chan!”

            Iwaizumi’s face scrunched up as he tried to come up with a guess.

            “You can’t guess!” Oikawa said in a singsong voice.

            After a few minutes of lighthearted banter, the pair reached Iwaizumi’s apartment building. They stood outside for a moment.

            “I’ll be over at 7:00, ok?” Oikawa asked. “Then we can get a taxi.”

            “We can’t walk there?” Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows. Usually, they would walk virtually everywhere since the busy city traffic was a pain. They would only drive if it was too cold or Oikawa deemed the walk unbearable. Oikawa shook his head as Iwaizumi’s question.

            “7:00 sounds good, then.” Iwaizumi agreed. He began to turn towards his building when Oikawa caught his arm.

            “You aren’t gonna kiss me goodbye? So cold!”

            “Go home, idiot…” He grumbled, bypassing Oikawa’s lips to kiss him on the cheek just to annoy him.

            “Mean.”

            “See you tonight.” Iwaizumi called behind him as he entered his building. On his trip on the elevator, his thoughts kept drifting to where the hell Oikawa was taking him. He couldn’t get it out of his mind. What had him so worked up?

While climbing the stairs to his bedroom, he realized he didn’t have any idea what to wear. Not that it really mattered to him, but he still wanted to look decent. He rummaged through his drawers until he settled on something. It was casual, but he still thought it looked nice enough to wear almost anywhere. After a shower and a bit of lounging around, a few hours passed and he heard someone unlocking his door.

            “Hey!” Oikawa called from the doorway. He still had the key from when Iwaizumi slipped on ice and hurt his back, and he came over so often that he started letting himself in. Oddly enough, Iwaizumi didn’t mind. He was used to it, and he liked not having to bother with formalities. Oikawa plopped down on the couch next to him, giving him a quick look up and down. “Black looks good on you.”

            “Stop looking at me like that. I picked whatever was clean.” Iwaizumi lied. He could tell his ears went red at the unexpected compliment, but Oikawa didn’t seem to care. In fact, it egged him on further. He took his time, taking his time in letting his eyes rake over Iwaizumi once more before standing up.

 “Come on, let’s get a taxi.”

            The tension building in Iwaizumi’s chest deflated slightly as he followed Oikawa to the door. With Oikawa messing with him like that, it was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Ta-da!” Oikawa exclaimed. They stood in one of a small bundle of streets away from the main roads, and it was packed with people. It appeared to be some sort of art fair. Artists stood behind small stands displaying their art, dancers twirled about beautifully, and cheerful music filled the air. Though it seemed uncoordinated, everything fit together smoothly under the orange sky. “It’s an arts festival! Noya and Yamaguchi told me about it down at the music shop.”

“This is…” Iwaizumi looked around with stars in his eyes. Oikawa’s thumb traced circles on Iwaizumi’s hand where he held it.

            They weaved through the bustling crowds, gawking at dancers who could lift their toes to their foreheads, and painters who created portraits that resembled photographs. They passed artists who were creating illusions using chalk on the sidewalk. Iwaizumi’s mouth fell open at the images they were creating. He even stopped walking to admire one that made the sidewalk look like a rocky canyon with a river below. It was perfect. Vertigo nearly swelled inside him as he studied the carefully-drawn water that seemed incredibly far below him. At the sound of a violin, Iwaizumi finally looked up. Oikawa was looking for its source as well. They followed the sound further down the street to find an elderly man playing the instrument. He played a calming ballad. Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if it felt sad or not; it just felt beautiful. It sounded like something Oikawa would play on rainy days at the café when the weather made him feel tired. Just as Oikawa would, the old man’s eyes were closed not in concentration but in the bliss of plainly loving music. Once the man finished his song, Oikawa dropped a tip in his violin case and they moved on. A few hours passed, and they visited several booths, bookstores, and makeshift art stands. It was dark and the stars were out, shining above the city like they came to enjoy the fair too.

            “They have a few bands playing today. It’s later so they should be started by now…” Oikawa pulled a folded flyer out of his pocket. He probably got it from Ukai’s, which made Iwaizumi wonder if they would see Noya and Yamaguchi around.

            “It should be a few streets over. Wanna go?”

            As a response, Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa in the direction he gestured to. They turned the corner to find themselves in another side street that was slightly wider than the rest. It was closed off so cars couldn’t get through and the band was in the middle of a playing a song inside a gated-off section. A huge crowd of people danced to the music- alternative, laid back but still upbeat- and a few stands selling drinks were lining the main area. Iwaizumi motioned to the stands and Oikawa nodded. Iwaizumi ended up buying a beer while Oikawa ordered some fruity, fizzy drink that Iwaizumi made fun of for the rest of the night.

            “Iwa-chan! It tastes good! Beer is disgusting and I’m not an ape like you.”

            “You’re an idiot!” Iwaizumi fired back over the music. They were dancing among the crowd as the band played another song. Dancing set Iwaizumi’s heart beating faster. He knew he wasn’t very good, but he didn’t care. His drink sloshed out of its cup a bit and onto the pavement beneath him. He felt a slight buzz, but it was only enough alcohol to make him feel more at comfortable in the large crowd.

            “Who knew Iwa-chan was a good dancer?” Oikawa teased as Iwaizumi moved to the rhythm of the song. “I’m swooning.”

            “Dance with me, dumbass.”

            Oikawa had an evil glint in his eye for a moment, and Iwaizumi knew instantly that he was in trouble. He switched their positions so he was standing in front of Iwaizumi facing away from him, then he took ahold of Iwaizumi’s hands and trailed them up his thighs until they rested on his hips. He grinded against Iwaizumi and, of course, like everything else he did, he was amazing at it. He would pick up the pace only to slow it down a few moments later, making Iwaizumi want more and more each time. It drove him crazy to the point where he couldn’t hold himself back from kissing Oikawa’s neck. His soft lips pressed against Oikawa’s smooth, pale skin. Oikawa tilted his head back at the contact, sighing. Iwaizumi trailed a few kisses up to meet his jaw as his hands slid down to Oikawa’s thighs. They were fit, too tempting to be real. Oikawa spun around and kissed Iwaizumi hotly before remembering they were in public.

            “Should we go somewhere?” Oikawa asked breathlessly.

            “Taxi.” Iwaizumi agreed. “We can go back to my house.”

            “Mine’s closer.” Oikawa said, already tugging him out of the crowd and down the street. They walked as if they were late for something important, quickly making their way out of the fair area. Once they were back on the main roads, they scanned the street for a taxi to take them home. Oikawa grew agitated, tapping his foot as he looked up and down the road. Iwaizumi spotted one first and he whistled for it to pull over. They climbed into the back together and Oikawa hurriedly told the driver his address before closing the partition. Oikawa’s hand lay on Iwaizumi’s leg, his long fingers brushing the inside of his thigh. He bit the inside of his cheek and tried to control himself, but the traffic made it difficult.

            When the taxi pulled up at their stop, they wasted no time in paying the driver and getting out. Oikawa lived in the top floor of a brownstone in the side of the city where all the artists lived. He wasn’t sure what exactly attracted them there, but the area was packed with photographers, painters, and, of course, musicians. He used to laugh at that side of town for their weird sense of style and pretentious attitude, but he grew fond of it once he spent time there. It was the type of place that held traces of Oikawa in its every square inch.

            Again, they wasted no time in making their way up to the third floor of the brownstone. Oikawa barely fumbled with the keys as he unlocked the door. They hastily kicked off their shoes, laughing at each other and the ridiculousness of it all. Oikawa’s home was surprisingly spacious, much bigger than Iwaizumi’s and much better decorated. It was only one floor, but the open floor plan kept things from feeling cramped. His room was neat, much unlike Iwaizumi’s, which looked like a bomb of dirty laundry went off. Oikawa closed the bedroom door behind them.

            Oikawa couldn’t keep his hands off of Iwaizumi. It was like he had lost all the patience that was slowly waning throughout the day, finally causing him to break. His hands ran beneath the thin, dark fabric of Iwaizumi’s black t-shirt, fingertips tracing the muscles of his lower back. His skin was hot, though goosebumps appeared wherever Oikawa touched. Oikawa’s back was against the closed door as they kissed with open mouths. Iwaizumi then trailed his lips down to Oikawa’s neck. Oikawa tilted his head back and gasped softly. With fistfuls of Iwaizumi’s shirt, he pulled him closer.

“You said you liked this shirt.” Iwaizumi teased.

“I do. You look amazing.” Oikawa studied the way it made Iwaizumi’s arms look even nicer than they already were, which was made Oikawa concerned for his self-control. “I’m surprised we didn’t have to come home sooner.” He admitted. “Pity that it has to come off.” There wasn’t an ounce genuine dread in his voice. He pulled the shirt off Iwaizumi, revealing his toned chest. Years of exercise were obvious, and oh _god_ were they appreciated by Oikawa. He kissed Iwaizumi again, letting his fingers trail down his body until they rested splayed across his lower abdomen.

Iwaizumi’s face flushed. Oikawa was just so _shameless_ in everything he did. He knew it made him flustered, so he made a point of doing it. He trailed kisses down his bare chest. A small moan fell from Iwaizumi’s lips and he clenched his fists. Oikawa kissed down to the top of his hips, right above the waist of his pants. Taking his sweet time, and with no concern about letting his hands graze Iwaizumi’s dick, Oikawa undid Iwaizumi’s pants and slid them down his legs. His fingertips played at the waistline of Iwaizumi’s boxers and he kissed him sweetly, like he was about to give him a hug rather than a blowjob. He then sunk to his knees in front of Iwaizumi, pulling his boxers down as well.

            He wrapped a hand around Iwaizumi’s shaft, teasing him by pumping slowly as he peppered kisses on the ridge of his hipbones. He ran his thumb over his tip before licking a stripe from the base up. His tongue circled the top for a moment, then he took Iwaizumi’s dick into his throat about halfway. He let his hand pump what was left out of his mouth. Iwaizumi groaned. He ran his hands through Oikawa’s hair as he bobbed his head up and down his shaft.

            “Tooru…” He breathed shakily. He tugged at Oikawa’s hair. Pressure began to build low in his abdomen, but Oikawa pulled his lips away before he could come. He stood, kissing Iwaizumi hotly. Iwaizumi didn’t think Oikawa had ever looked more beautiful. His face was rosy, with half-lidded eyes and swollen, pink lips that shined with traces of saliva and pre-cum. His hair was tousled but, in Iwaizumi’s opinion, he liked seeing messy more than Oikawa’s usual flawless hairstyle.

            Oikawa led him to the bed, where he lay down and let Iwaizumi hover over him, kissing his collarbone in a way that was sure to leave marks. Oikawa’s toes curled and his breathing was ragged as Iwaizumi helped him pull off his clothes. He was pale compared to Iwaizumi’s tanned skin, but it made his slender build look all the more beautiful. Iwaizumi reached into Oikawa’s bedside drawer for a condom and lube, then thoroughly coated his fingers.

            His fingers danced around Oikawa’s entrance, teasing him without any hint of mercy. Oikawa shuddered. He backed into Iwaizumi’s touch, desperate for more contact.

            “Hajime…” He whined impatiently. Iwaizumi slipped one finger in, pumping and stretching as much as he could before adding another. Oikawa moaned, moving himself so far back into Iwaizumi that it was almost like he was fucking Iwaizumi’s fingers himself. His tiny, breathless whimpers were beginning to make Iwaizumi impatient himself. Oikawa turned his head to make eye contact with him, then said in an uncharacteristically hoarse voice “Fuck me.”

            Iwaizumi put on the condom with hasty, clumsy fingers before positioning himself at his entrance. He let his hands rest on Oikawa’s waist, then plunged into him. He didn’t hold anything back on the first thrust, making Oikawa gasp in pleasure and tighten his grip on the headboard. Oikawa rammed back into him with every thrust, whining “Faster!” through clenched teeth.

            Iwaizumi was the one to come first, throwing his head back as tidal waves of pleasure rolled through his body, but Oikawa came shortly after him. His back arched and he bit down hard on his lip, riding out his orgasm. Iwaizumi’s fingertips gently brushed against the marks he left on Oikawa’s hips.

            “I love you.” He said, his voice still a bit scratchy.

            “I love you too.” Oikawa said, turning around. Iwaizumi burst into laughter at the sight of blood trickling down from Oikawa’s lip.

            “You _idiot_.” He said fondly, wiping the blood away with his hands. “Your lip’s bleeding.”

            “Ugh.” Oikawa said, lifting his hand to his face and pulling it away to find blood.

            “Just go clean up. I can get new sheets.”

            The rest of the day was a nap day. When they woke, they danced around in their underwear to some of Oikawa’s dusty old records.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOO that was a wild ride! I've never written smut before and I don't read it too often so I was mostly winging it. I'm so sorry if I made any mistakes because of that! To be honest, this chapter would have been out sooner if I wasn't so hesitant to publish smut. I hope it was alright, and thanks again for reading! Feel free to leave a comment :)


	10. End

Iwaizumi awoke to the sound of chirping birds outside the window and the muffled din of the busy streets below his brownstone. He smiled a sleepy morning grin and rolled over, only to find the other half of his bed empty. He frowned at the empty spot next to him, then the faint strumming of an acoustic guitar drifted above the sounds of the city. Listening to the familiar patterns of chords, his sluggish thoughts finally connected and he understood. He rolled out of bed.

Ten years had passed.

            Ten years had passed and Oikawa still refused to get a better coffee machine, Iwaizumi thought to himself as he tapped his foot impatiently behind their kitchen counter. It made aggressive-sounding whirring noises whenever he tried to blend something for himself, but years of enduring the same troubles led him to understand how to fix them. He solved the issue in record time, quickly making two drinks in two matching ceramic mugs. He followed the music out to the balcony.

            The wind blew through his light brown hair, tousling it lightly. His hands moved up and down the neck of the guitar, his long fingers calloused after years and years of playing. Iwaizumi could tell his eyes were closed without having to look at him. His face was painted with bliss and angled towards the sun. He really was beautiful.

            Iwaizumi handed him a mug and sat in the chair next to him, pulling it closer so he could watch Oikawa play. For a moment, he stopped to take the cup from him. He took a sip before setting it down next to him. The sugary, caramel latte was familiar as it burned his mouth a bit in that pleasant way. He took a moment to scribble something down on the sheet music that sat on his lap. Its pages were beginning to yellow at the edges.

            “This one again?” Iwaizumi asked after taking a peek at the papers. Oikawa played it so often that he didn’t need the music anymore, so Iwaizumi didn’t see the point in taking it out all the time. Maybe it was a personal, musician thing that he didn’t understand.

            “Well, _duh_ , Hajime. It’s how we met.”

            “Feeling sentimental?” Iwaizumi teased, taking Oikawa’s hand in his. Maybe some things had changed in the years that went by, but Oikawa’s hands didn’t. They were still the same as the hands that Iwaizumi fist held on their first night at the park together, and their first date together, and the ones he held when he proposed. Iwaizumi didn’t mind change, as long as _something_ stayed the same. The silver ring that Oikawa wore on his ring finger glittered in the morning sunlight for a moment, catching Iwaizumi’s eye. It reminded him of his own ring, the one twin to Oikawa’s, always sitting on his own finger. Maybe he was sentimental, too.

            “Oh, shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this fic has been such a fun time for me, and I'd like to thank everyone who supported it SO MUCH!! I really appreciate it and it makes me super happy! I've had this ending in mind for awhile now, and I'm glad to finally get it out there. I hope it's as satisfactory to you as it is to me, even though it's a bit short. Follow my twitter for any fanfic updates or anything (@cosmicbokuto ). As always, feel free to leave a comment if you'd like!! :)


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